


serving lies

by Tod der Fata Morgana (AlleyWalk_writes)



Category: D.Gray-man, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alt!Noahs/Exorcists/FMA:BCharacters, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Demons & Exorcists, Angst, Asexual Character, Blind!Allen, Dimension Travel, F/M, Gen, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Multi, Noahs with realistic mental illnesses/health problems, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Synesthesia, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-17 14:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16976193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Tod%20der%20Fata%20Morgana
Summary: The rope felt like it was burning a ring around his neck, like he could already feel as the trapdoor dropped and the noose snapped his neck.Leverrier held up a hand as he strode forward. “Any last words? Parting goodbyes for those those you’ll be leaving behind?” He asked, sharp mockery laced with fake sympathy, like a boomslang hidden in the grass. Allen thought of his friends. “Not to you.” He spits out, feeling wild with anger and hopeless desperation, like a caged beast about to be slaughtered. But then, Red did always think he could tackle a room full of demons and go down screaming.“Very well.” Leverrier says, and his hand comes down sharply.The trapdoor drops out from under Allen’s feet.Al clapping his hands, setting them at Ed’s bubbling, gushing throat, even though he didn’t have the energy to burn with the chest wound leaking down his front.The light leaving Al’s human eyes, this time for the last time.Too bad that Ed was just too injured for it to do any good.AU. Ed and Allen are given a second chance at life... in the most unlikely of places. Allen hopes he finds his friends soon. Ed wonders if all his life choices are bullshit.





	1. The Start: Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, some Trigger Warnings for this chapter.
> 
> Mentions of starvation and emacation, brief mentions of torture, (though you might not catch that), depression, character deaths, (though these will be reset, just not from Allen's POV), dissociation, violence, and of course, Allen's death.
> 
> Also, you might notice that the writing style changes part way through. This is because the beginning is an older piece of writing, and I've improved since then,(or so I hope), and so the style changed. Hope it's not too off-puting. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)
> 
> Edit: Edited the first chapter to make it more like my current writing style. (which is why the word count went down, apparently. *shrug*) Some things changed, so it might be worth a read.

Thin, icy fingers rub at cold skeletal arms in an attempt to get warm, shaking with more than just the cold of the stone cell floor beneath him. Curled up in a corner, his body all sharp elbows and thin limbs, muscle and fat burned away and reduced to stretched skin and a body so thin he can see his own ribs.

Allen sighs and goes back to examining his cell for any new and interesting detail that he hasn’t yet seen. Let’s see. Well, it stinks like the devil because they haven’t retrieved Allen’s bucket in a while, but that’s nothing new. The four walls around him seem smaller and smaller every day, and Allen gets up and starts pacing, the manacle around his ankle attached to a chain against the wall rattling with his footsteps. The stone brick walls are dirty and covered in grime, lined with crackling CROW spell tags, rats and spiders his constant companion, probably lice too now that Allen thinks about it. He actually ate a rat once when the hunger got unbearable. After that they became a major part of his diet and probably one of the main reasons he’s still alive.

They don’t feed him much in here. It was genius when he thought about it in a certain light. Parasitic Innocence users constantly need to eat to feed the Innocence inside of them, because it’s always taking their energy away, whether they’re using it or not. Take that energy source away and what happens? It eats away their energy whether they’re eating to supply it or not, and if not, then it takes it directly from the user’s weight and body mass itself. And if Allen tried to Activate now, with how much energy he had left, he’d go out like a firework, spitting and angry and pointless in the end.

Allen blinks. He remembers-

Two cardboard boxes, their bottoms soggy with blood. Drawn on the top of one, a cartoonish old man’s face that had been X’d out in red, and a picture of Lavi with a heart broken in two.

_ From The Noah, Please Open! _ it read.

-Allen shakes his head, scrubbing at his eyes tiredly.

_ It’s not your fault, Beansprout. You hear me? _

A wave of grief knots up Allen’s throat. He swallows and scrubs at his eyes.

“You don’t know that, stupid Kanda.” Allen tells Kanda’s ghost.

_ It was my choice. _

Allen growls and kicks at the chain on his manacle, uncaring of the pain that flashed through his ankle. “I never asked you to make that choice!” He yells.

_ Allen, you know it’s not your fault what Kanda did for you. He would never blame you. _

Allen turns and presses his head against the wall. “Lenalee…” He says, clutching at the wall, swallowing back tears and something unnameable.

_ We’re friends. I would do the same for you, Allen. _

Allen’s breath shudders as something breaks inside him.  _ And you did. You really did. I’m so sorry, Lenalee.  _

Allen turns onto his back and slides down the grimy wall. He stares resentfully at the door, wondering when the hell those CROWs were going to get here. He shivers, feeling cold, and rubs his stiff neck, nausea churning in his stomach.

Allen wipes at his arms compulsively, but the dirt and grime won’t come off, and Allen keeps seeing something else on top of the grime that just makes him scrub harder. There’s a hard lump in Allen’s throat. He wants a shower desperately. He always feels more like himself when he’s clean.

An interminable amount of time passes, and then the door to Allen’s cell creaks open on rusty hinges. Allen stands up shakily, but of course, he can’t fight, not with the CROW spells binding his arm. Four CROWs in elaborate red robes and decorative cream masks glide into the room on soundless feet, an air of complete stillness about them. It was time, then

“Allen Walker, please come with us. If you resist, you will be dealt with accordingly.” The lead CROW states. Well, at least they were being honest about his fate. Allen stays still and silent as the CROWs unlock his chains from the floor, one of the CROWs taking the chains in hand. The CROWs bind his arm twice as much as it was already, and Allen sighs.

They walk down the barren Black Order hallways, time seeming to slow to a crawl, Allen’s mind oddly detached from it all. His eyes wander as he trips on his own chain, legs moving as if through molasses and his body feeling strange and bloated, disconnected from himself. The CROW holding his chains lashes them against his calves, and Allen feels oddly disconnected from the pain.

Allen sighs. He knew it was coming. And he’d be happy when it ended. Being put on trial for heresy was really not his way to go, considering the things involved, but he’d be happy to see his friends again when he died. If there was a Heaven, that is.

They were at the entrance to a door, with Allen having a strange feeling of time passing without his knowledge. They enter through the door, and what Allen sees through the darkness is quite an ominous sight. The room they had entered was a dark, dank basement, the stone floor slightly damp and worn down as if thousands of feet had walked the steps that Allen was about the walk. It’s lit with faintly glowing gas lamps lined in sconces along the wall, that nonetheless only faintly light the space and and leaves the rest of the room in grey sepia tones. In the middle of the room was a gallery of chairs, quite comfortable looking settees in fact, filled with what looked like members of the Vatican judging by the insignia on their uniforms. And at the end of the room, straight down the aisle in the middle of the crowd of the people who had doomed Allen to death, was a scaffold. On top of the scaffold was a wooden beam shaped like an upside down L, and securely fastened to that beam was a rope with a noose on the end.

This was the end.

Allen’s attention is drawn to the smart clicking of heels on stone, and his gaze snaps to Malcolm C. Leverrier, the root of his problems.

Allen’s still not sure, to this day, what this man’s agenda was. But, whatever it was, it doesn’t seem to matter now. He’s tying up loose ends, he must have known that Link told Allen about his orders to serve the Fourteenth. And after Link’s mysterious disappearance, which Allen has his own suspicions about, Leverrier had immediately put Allen on trial for heresy. Not a lot of people questioned this. The people that did, well… 

Allen looks down, smiling sadly.

They just became traitors too, in the end, didn’t they?

“Allen Walker.” Leverrier says. “Or the Fourteenth perhaps?” He says with a quirk of his lips. The Vatican behind him titter nervously, some giving Allen hateful or hostile looks, some fearful. Leverrier finishes off one of his many baked confectionaries, patting at his mustachioed lips with a napkin. It’s probably supposed to make him feel hungry, but all it does is remind him of Link, of the others.

A pang of loss goes through Allen, before Kanda says,  _ What are you, scared? _

_ C’mon ‘Sprout, don’t let this bastard get to you! _ Lavi says.

_ You can do it, Allen! _ Lenalee says.

Allen takes a deep breath, and then bites out, “Allen is fine,”  _ and you know it. _ He adds silently. “Let’s just get this over with.” So I can see my family again. Allen has never believed in Heaven. If in any moments he thought of God, it was to curse them and hate them with every fiber of being he had. But now, he could help but ask this nebulous figure that he had always hated for just one ounce of mercy, just this once. 

He climbed up onto the scaffold with minimal prodding, standing directly on top of the trap door. At least he won’t choke to death. The CROW that would be his executioner put the noose around his neck and made sure that it was a snug fit. The rope felt like it was burning a ring around his neck, like he could already feel as the trapdoor fell open and the noose snapped his neck.  _ It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. You’re okay. Everything’s fine _ . He reassured himself.

It was funny. Lying to himself was usually reassuring. Now it just left the taste of death on his tongue.

Leverrier held up a hand as he strode forward. “Any last words? Parting goodbyes for those those you’ll be leaving behind?” He asked, sharp mockery laced with fake sympathy, like a boomslang hidden in the grass. Allen thought of his friends. “Not to you.” He states, energy buzzing under his skin, feeling wild with anger and hopeless desperation, like a caged beast about to be slaughtered. But then, Red did always think he could tackle a room full of demons and go down screaming.

“Very well.” Leverrier says, and his hand comes down sharply.

The trapdoor drops out from under Allen’s feet.

Allen’s whole world becomes pain. His mind is shattered between his screeching thoughts, his remaining air supply, and the pain clawing across his consciousness and through his body like nails on a chalkboard. He registers dimly that they must have misjudged the drop, and his neck isn’t  _ quite _ broken enough for him to be dead yet.

_ Are you not dead yet, stupid apprentice?  _

Stupid Master, you know I’m not _. _

_ Good. Now, channel your wishes into your soul. _

My soul?

_ Yes, idiot! Your soul! And hurry it up before you die completely!  _

But what do I wish for?

_ I don’t care, just hop to it, dumbass! _

Wishes… what does he want the most? What he wants the most is easy enough. He wants Kanda not to have sacrificed himself for him. He wants not have had Lavi’s head delivered to him in a box. He wants Lenalee, alive and well, with her brother Komui at her side. He wants them alive again, and he wants to be with them. He wants things to not be so fucked up with the Noahs, because that had caused half the problems. He wants everyone to be safe, and he wants to see them again.

_ Now give them to me!  _ He demands _. _

Allen runs out of air, he can’t breathe. Everything becomes dark. His body feels cold. He can’t breathe, he’s scared, please-!

Pain flares through him, and then darkness.

 

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It was travelling through a sea of endless of stars, knowing for once that it wasn’t lost and that its destination was clear and shining, like an ingrained map in its mind. Despite this, it had gotten lost many times, but luckily it had an ingrown instinct on its chosen destination that got it back on track. All it needed to most urgently do was avoid the  _ other _ inhabitants of this space.

They were… not so friendly. The consciousness accidentally passed too close to one of these beings at one stretch of time in the darkness of the void. A black, oily tendril of oozing darkness reached for it, greedy tentacles reaching for its life force, and the consciousness bounced back. It  _ blazed _ with light, pushing back the darkness with a piercing shriek and the smell of ozone and burnt flesh. The consciousness moved quickly away, bouncing across distances when it could spare the energy, and the creature did not pursue. It had a feeling that the creatures here had other goals than pursuing one wandering life force, as curious as it may be.

It had to be careful to preserve its energy, if it ran out, its whole consciousness and sense of self would dissolve away into nothing. This whole journey would be pointless. It had a feeling, however vague, that with a roll of the die, a lucky hand of cards, it had been given a second chance. It didn’t want to waste that on being reckless with itself. There had been a few close calls, times where it hadn’t been careful enough in its fights, and its pace on its journey had slowed to a near unbearable crawl.

During an immeasurable amount of time, it meets a second life force. It’s hopping across distances when it senses a bright light nearby, and veers off, hopping towards it. It’s light is like the sun, a warm orange with all the colors of fire roiling in its depths.

_ Greeting. ? _

The other light senses him, and reacts.

_! Anger! Hostility! Defensiveness! _

It tries to placate the other light.

_ Reassurance! Kindness. Friendliness. The bright light like fire safe at the blue light’s side. _

The other light hesitates.

_ Protectiveness? Disbelief! Anger! Confusion! _

It reassures the other light.

_ Protectiveness! The bright light like fire safe at the blue light’s side. Protectiveness! Reassurance! _

The other light brightens and bounces towards it slightly.

_ The bright light like fire safe at the blue light’s side.  _ It agrees.

Since then, they’ve been travelling together. It was alone so long in the endless void that it was hard to adjust to not being alone anymore. The arguments helped. It seemed as though they could argue about almost anything.

And through the endless arguments, they were almost there. It had felt like decades, maybe centuries had passed that way, travelling through the vast expanse of space, avoiding the creatures there, arguing with the golden light and trying not to get burnt up by any nearby stars. It felt like it was weakening, but it also felt like it was nearing its destination. It could sense the light that it wanted to get to, bright and beautiful and full of life.

The other light was also excited, it’s soul flickering and flaring with anticipation. But it, itself had come to a realization.

_ Fondness. Affection. Sadness. Anger. _

The other light blinks at him.

_ Indifference. Anger. …Fondness. The gold light and the blue light never seeing each other again. ? _

_ Uncertainty.  _ It answers.

_ Sadness. Anger. Determination.  _ The gold light says.

They reach out and mingle their souls in a parting goodbye, and it can almost feel the gold light’s smugness as it rips out a piece of both of their souls, replacing them with their counterpart pieces.

It bounces back.

_ Anger! Indignation! _

_ Satisfaction. Smugness.  _ The gold light answers.

The blue light blazes with anger, but they keep to their journey in a stony silence. 

Then, they saw it. It was just as beautiful as it had imagined it, full and blooming with life, shining blue and green and yellow like the stars themselves, and it embraced it. Feeling the warmth and safety of  _ home _ as the light embraced him-

Allen woke up. 

Complete blackness surrounded him. He blinks, trying to clear his eyes, but nothing happens. He reaches up to scrub at his eyes, and he lifts his arm weakly, numbness and tingling going up and down the limb as he scrubs at his eyes. Still no good. Was he… blind? Breathe in. Breathe out. This won’t stop him. He’ll find a way through this.

But how is he not dead?

The last thing he remembered was… well.

But after that, there had been… something. An endless void filled with unimaginable monsters, and a steadfast companion at his side.

He missed it already.

Trying to sit up, he fell back, numbness and tingling pervading his arms. Sitting up a bit more carefully, he levers himself up and finally stands.  _ What now? _ He asks himself sardonically. He takes a step forward and his leg bursts into pain. Fuck! Something sharp and edged there, maybe a table? He edges carefully around it. Then he trips on something on the floor, the edge of a carpet maybe, and clips his shoulder painfully on the edge of the table, his head hitting the floor with a dull thunk. Allen sees stars.

Shaking his head to clear the dizziness, Allen clambers upwards, when he notices a buzzing in his chest. That’s when he knows exactly where he is. The problem is is that it doesn’t make sense. The Ark had been blown up in a fight with Lulubell, don’t even get Allen started, that Noah is a fucking tank, and had had orders to take Allen to the Earl at any cost.

_ So?  _ Allen asks the Ark.

If the Ark could smile, it would be doing so smugly in Allen’s direction right now. Allen really did not sign up for smug semi-omniscient beings this morning. A series of directions appear in Allen’s mind, and the Ark gives him a mental nudge. Several times. 

“Alright, I’m going.” Allen says.

The Ark gives the impression of a cheshire grin, and why does that give Allen a bad feeling?

 

* * *

Neah is upset. Tensions are running high between the demonic hosts, as the ongoing war with the exorcists seems never ending and their own personal problems never ceasing. Neah had punched Wisely in the face earlier, but he’d deserved it, the little shit, playing his stupid mind games on him at a time like this. The tension is unbearable in the manse and Wisely’s words won’t stop ringing in his ears, Neah just needs to get away.

As always when he needs time alone from others, Neah retreats to the Ark, where nobody could follow him if he didn’t want them to. Fortunately for him, this always works out for him nicely.

The Ark is his one refuge in the storm that is his life. He can let people in when he pleases, but when he wants to be, he can be completely alone. Considering he can’t even be alone in his own mind, this is a blessing in and of itself.

**_Do you really hate me that much, Neah?_ **

Neah jerks, stopping in his steps through the Ark’s city. The pure white city rose around them, the buildings rising in a dome shaped pattern to surround the plaza, the centermost part of the city. A biting wind blew through the city, and storm clouds gathered above, mirroring its owners mood exactly.

Neah sighs.

It looks like he’ll have to take a dive into his shared headspace earlier than he’d like.

Closing his eyes, he dives into his mindscape.

The setting is the same as always; a wide fjord filled with blue water, the water black and polluted by and oily darkness, ominous shapes swimming in the depths. Green grassy slopes on either side wound along with the path of the water, dotted with snow, the ground fractured by jagged chunks of black rock, pulsing with a sickening light. A breeze smelling like putrid ozone fills air, Neah takes a deep breath of it and examines the dark purple sky critically. 

With a sigh, he steps down into the water, the surface of the water rippling under his feet. Almost immediately, the black oiliness reaches towards him with grasping claws, and Neah waves a hand and the blackness fades away with a scream. 

That’s all it takes for the demon to rush him; the blackness screeches, oily tendrils rising out of the water from all sides, reaching for him. 

Neah snaps his fingers.

The darkness is blown back.

He waves his hand, and more of the darkness is destroyed. It screams, and then explodes towards him in a torrent of water and demonic pikes. Neah rolls to the side, a flash of pain going up his arm. He snaps his fingers and the pike is blasted away.

He hears a scream.

His heart skips a beat.

_ Tyki-? No, too young. Road! _

He takes off in a flash towards the direction of the scream, and doesn’t need to be prodded to break into a sprint at the sound of a second scream. Snapping his fingers to clear the way of the corruption.

Neah arrived at the scene to find it wasn’t Road, but Wisely. His white hair was a mess, his deep golden brown skin covered in blood, his golden eyes terrified and his sclera beginning to bleed black. Black tendrils were reaching out of the water to grab hold of him, sinking into his skin, and Neah didn’t know why he wasn’t fighting back with his mind control, but hell if Neah wasn’t going to step in.

He ran over with demonic speed and cut the tendrils with his sword, then put a hand on Wisely’s chest and destroyed the demonic influence inside him.

It only then occurred to him, that this person was significantly younger than Wisely. They’re also extremely emaciated, and… can they not see? Well, whatever the case, Neah needs to get them to a safer place. Good thing he knows just the place.

“Hold on, I’ll get you out of here.” Neah tells him.

He just has time to see the surprised look on the boy’s face when Neah picks him up in a princess carry and with each footstep, gets them safely across to a safe haven of Neah's own design.

It’s a perfect replicate of the manse, and the demon can’t fucking touch it because it’s what you would call Neah’s “safe zone” inside his mindscape. It was the only place that was untouchable by the corruption, and the only place Neah, or anyone else, could be safe inside his own mind.

He enters the foyer, the mauve ceiling high overhead, with an arched entryway and a decorative wooden table in the middle of the room, with a white and green vase of tacky fake flowers with a small elaborate carpet underneath it.

Neah passes through the foyer and goes up the stairwell.

This seems to knock his new family member out of whatever silent shock they’d been in.

“Who are you? Where are we? Where are you taking me? What’s going on?” They demand, and Neah winces, because yeah, they must be pretty confused. Also, that had sounded like a boy’s voice, but Neah didn’t want to be making any assumptions.

“What are your pronouns?” Neah asks, to be sure.

The person’s eyebrows twitch at not being answered, but they say, “I use, um. Male and neutral pronouns? What, what about you?”

Neah shrugs. “Just male pronouns for me. I got transitioned, like, ages ago, though.”

The boy frowns, was that… confusion on his face…?  And then his face breaks out into a smile. “Good for you.”

Neah takes a deep breath. “To answer your question, My name is Neah D. Campbell, we’re currently in my mindscape, I’m taking you into my room to look at your injuries, and as for what is going on, well, that’s a bit more complicated.”

The boy blinks, his face shutting down, and then he disappears from Neah’s arms.

Well, shit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Added some confusion for Allen about the pronouns bc he's literally a genderfluid person from th late 19th century, there's gotta be some confusion there.


	2. The Start: Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward Elric sits in the dirty alleyway, clutching the stump that used to be his right arm, _again_ and wonders if all his choices are just bullshit.
> 
> Allen Walker wakes up with a start, the door to the secret piano room opening with a whoosh of air. Allen vaults off of the couch into a battle stance, heart beating rapidly, he still can't _see._
> 
> "Hey, hey, kid. It's alright. It's me. Neah, remember?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say. Didn't want to post this so soon because I don't have much done of chapter three, but I don't want to keep you guys in suspense.
> 
> Also, I edited/basically rewrote parts of chapter one to make it closer to my writing style, and some things changed, including word count, so you might wanna check it out. ^^
> 
> Trigger Warnings for gore, PTSD and flashbacks.

Edward Elric slumps against the wall of a back alley, rain pattering down in sheets and blood pouring from his stump where his right arm used to be,  _ again _ , wondering if all his life choices were just bullshit. This, whatever this was, was supposed to get him back to Al. To let him see Winry again. To apologize for how he’d fucked things up between them. He knew it was his fault, somehow.

But now, here he was, bleeding out in this dirty alley, rain soaking his hair and running down his face while thunder rumbles in the distance, and all he can think of are his mistakes.

But really, there’s no time to be thinking of all that bullshit. He needs to find a doctor, and soon. Or he might never see Al again.

If that was even possible after all that had happened.

A wave of tiredness hits him, but he pushes through it determinedly, taking a break from putting pressure on his stump to push back his sweaty, rain soaked hair. His left leg aches from port up, and he stumbles on an upturned paving stone. Nausea churns in his stomach at the motion, and he quickly puts pressure on the wound again, regaining his balance and nearly vomiting from the pain.

Crap, I’m going into hypovolemic shock. Not good.

Forcing himself to stand, a bout of dizziness overtakes him, his left leg seizing, and he tips into the wall, stump first. A scream rips itself from his throat, blood splattering on the wall, dripping down onto the pavement. He swallows down anything else humiliating and lurches forward.

At some point in the alleyway he pukes his guts out on the ground, and another wave of fatigue hits him. His steps slow, and it seems as though he has iron weights on his body, his breathing rapid and shallow, until he’s not sure if he’s in the alleyway or somewhere entirely new anymore. 

The world seems blurry and indistinct, and he just has time to hear a faintly familiar voice say, “Are you alright? Oh my god! Are you okay? Don’t worry, I’m calling an ambulance right this minute!” Before he is engulfed in blessed darkness.

 

* * *

Ed wakes up and nothing hurts. 

This in itself is suspicious.

He keeps his breathing smooth and regulated in the patterns of sleep, but something begins to beep rapidly right next to his ear. Ed’s eyes pop open. An odd machine on wheels sits right next to him, beeping like -- it’s a bomb-! and the longer he stares at it in shock the faster it beeps.

_ Fuck! I gotta get out of here, I have to warn Mustang! _

Vaulting himself out of bed one handed, he finds he’s got an IV tube stuck in his arm and a bunch of… things taped to his chest that lead to the machine. Fuck, is the bomb alchemically powered? Powered by a human soul on detonation maybe? Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Ripping out the IV with his teeth, Ed starts trying to take off the ones of his chest. His elbow is bleeding everywhere, and it’s making him feel dizzy, and his head gets fuzzy to the point where he’s reaching desperately with his one arm to get at the sticky pads, flailing all over because he  _ has to warn Mustang. _

That’s how the soldier finds him, coming in with a clipboard and pen, and Ed yells, “Hey, you, go warn Mustang!”

The soldier appears bemused. “Of what, dear?” She asks.

Ed has no time for this bullshit. “There’s a bomb! A bomb in the-!”

Ed stops, a feeling like dread in his gut.

Because… 

He’d already warned Mustang, hadn’t he?

The Drachmans had snuck a bomb into Central command right under their noses, and by the time Ed found it and went to warn Mustang and gather up the bomb squad, it had already been too late.

And Al… 

Sweet, kind Al, had visited that day, because it was Ed’s birthday.

Al clapping his hands and turning them on himself, the light fading out of his armoured eyes.

Al clapping his hands once again, setting them at Ed’s bubbling, gushing throat, even though he didn’t have the energy to burn with the chest wound leaking down his front.

The light leaving Al’s human eyes, this time for the last time.

Too bad that Ed was just too injured for it to do any good.

His last thought had been that he’d wanted to live, to see Alphonse again, to see Winry again. To see his mom’s smile.

Ed collapses back in bed, breathing hard. The soldier resolves itself into a doctor, and Ed sighs.

“Nevermind.”

The doctor examines him closely, her mouth pinched in a firm line and her eyes… concerned? Fuck, Ed can’t believe he had a total freak out over nothing. It’s just a hospital. Even if some of the equipment is unfamiliar.

She scribbles something onto her clipboard, then hangs it in front of his bed. This is why Ed hates hospitals. One little infraction and they’ll have you back in bed with orders of three or more days of completely unnecessary bedrest.

He gives the doctor his best glower, which she ignores.

Taking up another clipboard, the doctor looks his way.

“Name?”

Ed blinks. Name? Why would they be asking for that? Practically everyone around here knows his name after what happened on the Promised Day. 

Ed narrows his eyes. Not to mention, that his previous injuries don’t match up with what he remembered.

And there was something else. A never ending black void filled with dangers his mind couldn’t grasp, like nothing he’d ever experienced before, and a kind blue light that guided him as much as it annoyed him.

Better to play it safe.

“Alphonse Blue.” He answers, hoping like hell that the surname ‘Blue’ isn’t a total oddity.

The doctor looks up from writing his name and says, “how strange. The nurse that brought you in has a son named Alphonse.”

No way.

It’s impossible.

Completely, entirely, impossible.

But… 

“Nurse?” Ed questions.

“Trisha Elric.” The doctor answers, and Ed grips the bed covers tightly in his one hand, his hand shaking, trying to swallow, his throat suddenly unbearably “She was off-duty, but she saw you stumble out of an alley and collapse, and treated you until we could get there.”

My mother’s alive.

Alphonse is alive!

Is everyone else alive too? All the people that he had lost?

“I’m her son too!” Ed proudly proclaims.

But the doctor just looks at him strangely, peering at him from behind her wirerim spectacles. “Oh dear, it looks like you’ve got a bit of head trauma along with losing your arm. Tell me, are you feeling dizzy? Light-headed? Nauseated? Confused at all?”

Ed can only answer ‘yes’ to all of these, because the only alternative is looking more suspicious than he already did.

My mother’s alive… Except, not really my mother.

Well, no big deal. So he’ll meet her at some point. Not like she’s really his mother.

But, the other Al… 

No, that doesn’t matter. It’s not really him. He won’t remember him. Why bother with someone that isn’t even the real Al?

 

* * *

Allen wakes up with a jolt and is met with more blackness. He groans into his hand. 

He just had to have the most fucked up dream ever the first time he fell asleep in this world, didn’t he? Because, if what Neah had been saying was true, it wasn’t a dream at all, was it? It was some sort of… mindscaping, thing. 

And the rest of it, and its implications… 

Neah had been there, but he hadn’t known him. He hadn’t known Allen. And he had seemed… different. Less bitter, less angry at the world at large. Like he actually gave a damn. Like he cared.

It was probably the reason Allen never recognized his voice, when not laced with that familiar anger and bitterness, he actually seemed… nice.

Allen rubs his nose. It’s been aching a lot ever since he woke up, and giving him a real headache too.

He shifts around on the couch he’s laying on, hoping he’s not getting it too dirty. He’s pretty sure the last time he saw this room the couch was a pristine white.

Oh well.

The ears on top of Allen’s head twitch, and Allen sighs. And there were those too. Apparently arriving in a new universe equates being changed into an entirely different species, complete with fur, fangs, and claws. How he was supposed to look approachable now, he didn’t know. 

If he even wanted to do that anymore. 

He didn’t know. 

Just then the secret door to the piano room opens, and Allen rolls upright on the couch into a fighting stance to meet the intruder.

There’s a beat of silence.

“Hey, hey kid, it’s alright. It’s me, Neah, remember?” Neah’s voice says from near the doorway, and Allen’s heart is beating staccato in his chest. Something sharp and pervasive clogs his throat, and he still can’t  _ see _ him, and he’s off the couch and slowly backing away.

Allen’s breathing is coming fast, the darkness in his vision all encompassing, and he bumps into something behind him. Something tears through his chest, clenching around his fastly beating heart. He turns around and punches it as hard as he can, and cries out when he’s met with an unbreakable surface. Fuck. At least three fingers broken.

“Hey, hey, kid, it’s alright, calm down. It’s okay.” He hears Neah step forward a few steps, and takes three steps backward in return. Breathe. Breathe.

“Hey, c’mon kid, it’s okay.” Neah says, stepping forward more. He’stooclosehe’stooclosehecan’tbreathe.

The walls are closing in on Allen, everything’s getting too close, he can’t breathe. It’s so dark in here. Why is it so dark?

“S-stay back!” Allen tells the CROW.

The CROW kicks him in the stomach and spits in his face.

It’s dark again, and the CROW’s voice has turned into Neah’s.

Allen brandishes his left arm in front of him, desperate and about to activate.  _ I’m not Neah! I’m not Neah! _

**_But you don’t want to do that, do you?_ **

What?

**_If you do that, you’ll burn out like a dying star. Don’t you want to live?_ **

Yeah, sure.

**_Such a flippant answer. Well, I can help with that._ **

And then with the next breath Allen took, brightness and color filled the world. 

He found he was slouched against a wall that smelled of… snow? He found he was in a room that smelled like a cool winter wind, the walls resolving into blobs of white around him, the piano and couch also resolving into view with still distinctly blurry looks to them. He smelled Neah in front of him, a few feet back, his gold eyes hesitant and guilty and maybe a bit… concerned?

Allen blinks.

Clears his throat.

“Hi.” He croaks out, shaky and weak, and he winces, ears flattening.

Neah looks slightly hopeful, so Allen continues, “I’m, I’m Allen Walker. Could, could you help me?” He asks, looking at the Noah with big eyes and a slightly hopeful smile.

“Of course,” Neah says, reaching out to wrap an arm around Allen’s shoulders, leading Allen to have a controlled flinch, “anything for family.”

Ice blooms in Allen’s stomach.

“Family?” He repeats.

“You’re one of us now.” Neah confirms.

Allen sniffs at the deep golden brown skin on his arm, and he feels like throwing up.

 

* * *

“So,” Head Nurse, as she had introduced herself as, says. “Are you thinking of getting automail surgery?”

Ed frowns in thought. He nods. “Definitely. But it’s just the problem of finding the right mechanic, y’know?” He wonders if the other Winry will give him an arm this time around. While that would be ironic, Ed’s not completely sure he wants to get to know this Winry. Or any of the others. They’re just, they’re just not going to be the same. Not that that matters. He’s fine on his own. He doesn’t need to know them.

He’s puzzled about something, though. The thing is, the circumstances around how he lost his arm are shady at best.

He just wakes up to find it gone? Suspicious as hell.

He would suspect Truth on principle, except he didn’t have an Alchemical Gate anymore, and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the bastard since then. 

At least the bastard makes an appearance before ripping off excess body parts.

It was predictable, at least.

But that leaves the question of just, how, exactly, he lost his arm.

Head Nurse nods. “I’ll look into getting you some recommendations.”

Ed smirks. “Thanks.”

Now, what to do? 


	3. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allen fought with a shower and lost, was at once perplexed and amazed by the bathroom toilet, and had a surprising visitor that he argued with endlessly.
> 
> Ed had a brief visit with his mother, and a visit, if you could fucking call it that, with the blue soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No particular Trigger Warnings for this one, except perhaps slight hints of PTSD.
> 
> Also, I'd like to thank Arkfall21, Red_CELEBRATION, This_Star_Wont_Go_Out, Ahazune, Blackimpdog, as well as nine guests for kudosing my work! You guys are the best! *Gives you all cyber cookies.*
> 
> Also a warning that this is unbeta'ed, and while I usually comb through it while writing to look for mistakes, there still might be some I miss.
> 
> Also, the emotion image talk was created by liketolaugh. I do not own, and was given permission to use it by said author. She's awesome, you should totally go check her out!
> 
> Edit: edited the Tyki speech to make him sound more... Tyki-ish. Sorry guys, I hope he's more IC now.

The Ark gate opens onto a freshly mown lawn, the scent of freshly cut grass filling Allen’s senses. Allen sniffs, and the shape of an Victorian style Manse comes into blurry view, white with black accents, like a panda.

“Where are we?” Allen asks, slightly suspicious.

Neah blinks, surprised. “Oh, right. I keep forgetting that you’re visually impaired.” He says, embarrassed. “We’re at the manse. I brought you here before in my mindscape.”

Allen nods. This makes sense, though the pervading sense of doom still remains.

“Come on. Let’s go in.” Neah says. Supporting Allen around the shoulders, they walk together towards the front door, Neah destroying the gate behind them. The familiar Ark command sends chills up Allen’s spine, but he ignores it, though he can smell Neah’s concerned look.

They enter into what smells like a foyer, and pass through it, Neah worrying over Allen in an unfamiliar way. 

“Are you sure you don’t wanna just… lay down or something? I could get you something to eat.” Neah offers as he supports Allen through the large elaborate dining room, Allen’s stumbling steps making everything twice as hard. But he had refused to be carried. Twice. Neah had gotten the message after that.

“I’d rather just take a shower.” Allen answers briskly, stumbling over a bit of carpeting. Neah worrying over him was weird, he wants to get a breather, honestly.

“Why?” Neah asks with a frown.

“I don’t want to get anything dirty…” Allen answers, a bit too truthfully.

Neah smiles. “Nothing a quick call to the clean up crew couldn’t fix.” He reassures.

Allen blinks. Who?

But then Neah says, upbeat, “Here’s the bathroom, as ordered!”

He helps Allen sit down onto a toilet seat. He looks down at it in wonder. Last time he knew, toilets were only seen in high-class hotels. He must really be in a different age.

The house was nearly a mansion, and the bathroom had tubs that were as big as a pond, and something called a ‘shower’. He didn’t want to take his chances with the tubs, he might actually drown in those with how weak he felt. So he reluctantly asked for help on how the shower worked, hoping that that wasn’t too strange a question.

Apparently it wasn’t because Neah showed him how to use the ‘touchscreen’ directions to change the temperature of the water any way he liked, as well as the pressure of it. Allen was skeptical that this was a thing that could actually be achieved by the small square device, but he kept his reservations to himself. He couldn’t actually smell the screen that clearly, and on impulse, had resorted to licking it. 

This elicited a surprised laugh from his Noah host, but Allen had gotten the results he needed; the screen was much clearer now.

He’s still skeptical of the touchscreen’s mystical properties however, so he’s completely surprised when he’s hit with a jet of steaming hot water. He yelps, wincing at the sting of the hot water on his many wounds. He soon becomes acclimated to the temperature however, eyeing the touchscreen with new found respect. He takes a deep breath, luxuriating at the feeling of his chest no longer being restricted. He had had his binder on for he didn’t know how many days in that cell, and it had been starting to hurt really badly. 

He snorts. Ironic that one of the things that were supposed to make him feel better were one of the worst torture devices in the place. Neah drops by to deposit some clothes, quickly returning with Allen’s request of a long sleeved shirt, and then there’s quiet. Nothing but the sound of the water slapping against the tiles.

In the silence, the Noah problem presents itself. Allen sighs, leaning into the spray. He’s honestly not sure how he feels about all this. The alternate version of the Noah that was supposed to devour his memories saved him from something beyond his comprehension, and the version that was supposed to devour his memories and turn him into a Noah somehow didn’t, but turned him into a Noah anyway?

Allen scrubs roughly at his hair, knotting up his fingers in the sudsy white strands, nearly yelping at the feeling of claws scraping across his scalp. He takes a deep breath. Maybe he’s thinking about this the wrong way. When he was in his world he was a Noah host. But Noah hosts didn’t get attacked in their own mindscape by something beyond mortal comprehension. Noah hosts didn’t have other people besides the one meant to devour them inside their mindscapes.

So maybe… he wasn’t a Noah?

But, what could he be besides a Noah? The equivalent to a Noah in this universe? 

That… didn’t make sense, and yet, made so much sense in context.

Now, how to find out more?

Emotions knot up Allen’s chest, to the point where he can’t breathe, and he sinks down to his knees.

Mana… 

As the storm of emotions continue, Allen breathes through it, nearly choking on the familiar guilt, the shame.

Mother… I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me!

Allen shakes his head. Mother? Allen had never had a mother figure in his life.

Allen blinks as realization dawns on him.  _ The guilt, the shame, it isn’t mine! _

His vision warps and changes, and then he’s looking through another’s eyes, staring up at a woman with kind blue eyes and dark brown hair.

_ About time you showed up again. _ A familiar golden soul says, annoyed. Allen can read Ed’s emotions, and the familiar guilt and shame are overlaid with a desperate desire to not be here. Allen is concerned, but he’s also pissed off.

_ I’ve been busy! _ Allen says, just as annoyed.

_ ‘Busy’ doesn’t cut it, for what I’ve been through. _

_ You wanna bet? _

The golden soul shifts, and Allen notices that something is significantly wrong with the body he is inhabiting. There’s an empty void of feeling where the right arm should be, a phantom pain that twitches like there should be something there, but nevertheless reminds Allen vividly of the time he lost his left arm.

_ …I’m sorry.  _ Allen says.

_ Me, too.  _ The other person says.

_ I just recently lost my sight, too. Weird, right? _

_ Goddamned. Stupid. Fucking. Gate _ . They growl out.

_...What? _ Allen asks, baffled.

_ It’s nothing.  _ The other person says.

“Alphonse,” The nurse says,  _ Trisha Elric _ , Alphonse’s mind supplies, “I notice you’re distracted. Is your head still bothering you?”

_ Your name is Alphonse? _

_ Ed actually. Now shut up, I’m trying to concentrate! _

“A little,” Ed admits, “but I’m fine now, you don’t need to worry. Really.”

Trisha frowns. “Well, if you’re sure you’re alright. No relapses?” She says with a hint of a teasing smile.

Ed blushes slightly. “None, ma’am.” Ed says.

_ Do you have a crush on her or something? _

_ Fuck you, she’s the alternate version of my mother you asshole! _

_ Oh, sorry. _

At feeling how uncomfortable Ed was around her, Allen felt a hesitant concern, but he knew it wasn’t really his business. Still, he’d probably get involved whether Ed liked it or not, but Ed was still injured at this point. He didn’t want to pressure him.

 

* * *

Tyki Mikk wants one thing in life: to live life and have fun doing it. Living dangerously was never on the quota, but it was also never  _ not _ on the quota. So when Tyki started hearing voices and his perception started to skew, he thought, alright, I can deal with this.

He cannot deal with nearly eating a sixteen year old boy who did nothing to him other than smell tasty when the hunger pangs first started up.

He looked things up online, found some crapshit diagnosis and a spew of conspiracy theories and not much else. 

He turns away from his friends for their own safety.

He’s lost, adrift, wandering in the streets, his mind a fog of pain and hunger, trying not to let the hunger clawing through his stomach make him see the people before him as meat rather than people.

He’s not sure if he succeeds.

Tyki’s quietly self-destructing in an abandoned alleyway when the Noah family find him.

A small finger pokes him in the side. “Are you dead yet?” A little girl’s voice asks. Tyki groans. Now he’s hallucinating. “Oh, good, you’re alive! Uncle Neah!” Tyki looks up through hazy eyes. “Do you think he’s one of us?” the amber eyed not-a-hallucination asks, around the lollipop in her mouth. 

Tyki feels sick.

A man with dark fluffy hair and deep brown skin crouches over him, amber eyes glowing in the darkness. Tyki rolls away weakly, some part of him feeling an urge to come closer, to not draw away.

The man smiles. “Yes, I think so.”

Ever since then, Tyki had been living life, and been living it dangerously. So he’s not surprised when he sees Neah D. Campbell sitting on the worn leather couch, anxious and worried.

He sighs.

Lighting a cigarette and taking a drag, letting the smoke pool out from between his lips, he asks, “What’s the trouble this time, terror twin #2?” He’s concerned, but then, there’s always some sort of drama going on with Neah, so it might be nothing.

Neah gives him an annoyed look and says, “Must you pollute the air everywhere you go, Tyki?”

Tyki laughs. He knew Neah didn’t really mean it that way. “I guess I just can’t help myself.” He takes another drag and blows it out between his lips, and Neah wrinkles his nose. He hates the fact that Tyki smokes, just like Road.

Tyki smirks at him, because he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon, then looks at him seriously. “So, what’s bugging you this time, Neah? Boy trouble again?” He teases. 

Neah shoots him another annoyed look. Tyki smiles, amused.

He turns serious again eyebrows raised. “Oh? You didn’t get in another fight with your brother, did you?” He asks. A fight between Mana and Neah will upset the whole family, and they can’t afford that, especially considering how tense everyone in the house is at the moment, waiting for disaster to happen.

“...No.” Neah answers, tangling his long musician’s fingers together in a nervous gesture.

Tyki’s eyebrows raise further. What was this about, then?

Wisely walks in and leans against the wall, and asks, all nonchalance, “Is it about the guy who’s collapsed in the shower? ‘Cause I’m tellin’ ya, he ain’t lookin’ too good.”  _ Damnit, Wisely.  _ Tyki thinks, annoyed.

“Collapsed?!” Neah yelps, sitting up in alarm.

“Is he hurt?” Tyki asks, concerned. He swears if Mana picked up another random hobo/gang member out of the goodness of his heart he will scream. 

Scream with joy, because he always loves catching up with fellow homeless people. Or, he’s only mostly homeless… sort of. Sometimes.

Anyway, the point being he is quite eager to meet this new person that has been dropped into his life.

 

* * *

Allen wakes up.

He finds he’s in a bedroom, the room light and airy, with a high ceiling and a huge four poster bed, the shapes blurry but distinct enough to complete a picture every time he takes a breath through his nose. There’s an wide balcony with glass doors that seems to have flowers planted along them. He hopes they don’t expect Allen to take care of them. He doesn’t exactly have a green thumb. 

He’s still not sure what to think of his new found ‘sight’ if that’s what he wants to call it, other than being glad he has it. Things are much less overwhelming when he can decipher the world around him, even if in a different way.

Allen realizes he’s naked, and wrapped in a towel, with clothes laying beside him. Shame burns him to think that Neah might have seen, seen what had happened to him. But he knew it would have only been worse if the man had actively dressed him, and for that he is grateful.

Quickly getting dressed, eying the spare binder Neah must have left before uneasily deciding to leave it off for now, he’s in the middle of brushing his hair when he notices the emotions that aren’t his jangling against his senses.

_ Boredom. Listlessness. Sadness. Anger. Loneliness. _

Allen frowns.

_ Boredom. Sadness. ? _

He can feel Ed’s exasperation from here.

_ Exasperation! The hospital room empty of life. Boredom. _

_ Understanding. Sadness. ? _

_ Dismissiveness. _

Allen frowns. Well, it’s not like he expected Ed to tell him his life story or anything. Allen surely wouldn’t do the same.

_ Acceptance. Ed talking to Trisha Elric. ? _

_ Shame-guilt-hurt-blame! Anger! Fear! Determination! Love! Love! Love! _

_? _

_...Unsureness. Shame. Guilt. Fear. Wrongness. Anger. Two Trisha Elric's and one of them not belonging. _

Allen blinks. On the other end, he could almost feel Ed seething with frustration, blinking back the tears in his eyes, trying to stay calm and composed in the face of something impossible.

Allen’s been there.

_ Reassurance! Ed bonding with his new mother. Meeting his family again. A smile that was real instead of part of the mask. Reassurance. Fondness. Reassurance! _

He felt as Ed calmed, taking a deep breath.

_ Denial.  _ Ed refutes. _ Curiosity.  _ Ed nudges, suddenly perking up _. A smile that was real instead of part of a mask. ? _

Allen frowns in the middle of searching for a hair tie. Damn. These stupid emotions and images didn’t hide much, did they?

_ Dismissiveness. _ Allen throws back at them.

_ Curiosity.  _ Ed persists.

_ Dismissiveness! Anger! Dismissiveness! _ Allen says.

_ Curiosity! Anger! Defensiveness! _ Ed growls.

Allen ignores them as he continues his search for a hair tie. 

“Looking for this, boy?” A familiar voice says behind him, and Allen turns around, dropping into a battle stance, his heart dropping out of his chest. He takes a deep breath through his nose, the scent of cigarette smoke filling his nostrils, the colors of blurry black licorice smelling hair, bourbon tasting eyes, skin smelling a deep brown.

Allen resists the urge to touch the left side of his chest, to feel the beat of his heart as the alternate version of Tyki Mikk stands in front of him, holding a hair tie out as if it were an olive branch.

Allen’s ears prick, new senses that he’s still getting used to alerting him to two other heartbeats nearby, as well as a familiar scent that he recognizes as Neah.

Allen eyes Tyki warily. Or rather sniffs. He smells as if he’s in pain. Why? Family squabbles?

Allen frowns. He’s fond of Tyki, if he’s being honest. He has a certain respect for him for being able to have human friends even with the life he lived, he doesn’t hate him, exactly, he just doesn’t trust him, either. But he doesn’t want to hurt him, either.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Allen asks, with a concerned frown.

He can smell Tyki’s surprise. “Aren’t you supposed to be blind, boy?”

Allen blinks, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest. His hands tighten and untighten into fists, unsure whether to fight or continue this nerve wracking conversation. Then it’s like a film settles over his eyes, a small warmth nestling itself into his chest.

_ Want me to kick his ass? _ Ed asks, noticing Allen’s distress.

And suddenly, everything is fine. Allen breathes in, breathes out. Ed is here, so there’s no reason to feel scared.

He’s not alone.

_ No, I’ve got it handled. Thanks though. _

_ Anytime.  _ Ed says with a smirk.

“I can smell it on you.” Allen replies.

_ Woah, is that like, smell-sight? Synesthesia? _ Ed asks.

_ Yeah. _ Allen says.  _ I was blind before, but then I’m pretty sure I made a deal with a demon. _

_ Cool.  _ Ed says.  _ Wish I’ve been having as much fun as you. Just boring hospital food for me. And check ups. Don’t forget the check ups. _

_ Oh, you poor deprived child.  _ Allen mocks.

“Huh,” Tyki says, “I guess those Chimäre senses have their perks as well.”

_ Chimäre? _ Ed asks, a hint of dread in their voice.  _ What's a Chimäre? _

_ I have no idea, I just woke up with an extra set of ears and a tail when I landed here. _ Allen says, waving said tail and twitching said ears to prove a point.

He could feel Ed’s rising alarm, blaring through his chest like a second heartbeat. 

_ What’s wrong? _ Allen asks, alarmed.

_ Nothing. _ Ed answers, reassuringly.  _ Just… you’re not in any pain, anywhere, are you? _ Ed asks, real concern lacing their voice.

Allen hesitates, why is Ed acting like this?  _ I'm a bit… hungry? _ Allen answers uncertainly.

_...I can feel your pain, you know. You don’t have to lie.  _ Ed says seriously.

_ Oh, no. Those are just injuries _ . Allen says.  _ They’re not that bad though. _

_ If you say so.  _ Ed says dubiously.

Allen shrugs. “I suppose so.” He says with a polite smile. 

He smells Tyki’s crooked smile in return. Shoving a hand inside his borrowed pocket of… some sort of fabric, something blue and coarse against his skin. He asks, “May I?” gesturing to the hairband.

Tyki’s eyebrows go up. “Of course. Need any help?”

Allen’s shoulders stiffened before he reminds himself that they all probably saw him “pass out” in the shower, so the Noah’s concern isn’t quite as irrational as it feels to Allen. He’ll be more careful of where he is next time he goes to visit Ed.

Speaking of which… 

_ Ed, where are you right now? _

_ Um… right here? _

_ No, I mean your body. Is it still in the hospital somewhere? _

_ Yeah. Why? _

_ Try to make sure no one catches you passed out. My new found family members found me passed out in the shower, and it was not fun. _

_ What were you doing visiting me in the shower for, dumbass?! _

_ It was an accident, you jerk! _

_ Yeah, whatever. I could say something clever about my dick here, but I won’t just for you. _

_ Yeah, thanks, thanks so much for that.  _

Taking the hairband and tying up his damp hair into a ponytail, he turns to Tyki, who says, “After you, boy.” Allen starts walking, feeling the weight of Tyki’s stare on his back. He sniffs, and he smells snowy hair, a white and purple arrow striped head scarf holding up the hair, and three crystal clear black and yellow accented eyes on his forehead.

Great. Wisely. Just who he needs. He probably already knows everything just from reading Allen’s mind and is just waiting to tell the Earl. At least his eyes aren’t red, so he’s not attacking.

_ This is gonna be interesting. _ Ed predicts.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl the end ship for this is a queerplatonic relationship between Ed and Allen. Also Kanda/Alma and Lavi/Lenalee(platonic) if anyone's interested to know the main ships. Might be some Komui/Bak in there, I'm not sure yet. Not sure for _any_ of the Noah's, as I have yet to ponder their sexualities other than:
> 
> Neah: Demiromantic Homosexual
> 
> Tyki: Homoromantic Bisexual
> 
> Though Road's probably a lesbian, just because. :)
> 
> Also, what's a Chimäre I wonder? :)
> 
> Also, terribly sorry for the cliffhanger. Judging of what I've got written of next chapter, it'll get worse before it gets better. But at least more Ed and Allen interactions, which are fun! *grin and bounce*
> 
> See y'all next chapter!


	4. Two Meetings and Two Interruptions: Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> Triggar warnings for this one are light, except some PTSD and a bit of self-hatred over self sexuality. The thing is, folks, that Allen and Ed come from the 19th and 20th century, so there's gotta be some confusion there about gender and sexual identity. If you go back you can see how I've added some uncertainty to previous chapters.
> 
> This just made sense to me and will have to be explained to the poor boys later.
> 
> Also! I think you'll like this chapter! At least, my sister really did!
> 
> Shout out to Shiemi13, slainsaazbaum, Arkfall21, RED_CELEBRATION, This_Star_Wont_Go_Out, Ahazune, blackimpdog, and 13 guests for kudos-ing my work, as well as the people who bookmarked and just the people who looked and made my hit count go up higher.
> 
> You guys are the best! :)

Ed feels like he should be given a medal for keeping his cool for this long. The blue soul had to be the most infuriating person Ed had ever met, next to the Colonel Bastard. And the worst part was, he was stuck with him. 

But it’s not like he liked the guy or anything. Hell, he was a huge pain in the ass. He’d trade him for someone else if he could, but unfortunately, he’s out of luck.

The only reason he’s talking to the guy at all is because he’s a modicum of interesting and because there were no more fish in the sea. No one else was like them, travelling from a different world to this fucking place, wherever they were. He was stuck with him, that was it.

Even if he trusted him, and that was a tenuous trust at best, that didn’t mean he had to like him. 

And that wasn’t even touching on the fact that his new ally might actually be a Chimera experiment.

How that was even possible when he had no knowledge of it, Ed had no idea.

Either he was lying about not remembering anything, or something fishier was going on here.

Either way, Ed was going to find out what it was. For his ally’s sake as well as his own.

Taking the blue soul’s advice, he still didn’t have his fucking name, wasn’t that embarrassing, he resurfaces into his own body to find another IV tube stuck in his arm. Dammit he thought he was done with the stupid IVs! They said they were going to start him on regular food tomorrow and that he shouldn’t need any more blood transfusions. 

Sitting up to look at his IV stand in confusion, he notices it’s actually saline, instead of what they were giving him before. Ed sighs. Damn doctors.

With a yawn, and knowing he wouldn’t be getting any actual sleep tonight, Ed falls back into bed and reaches for the blue soul.

 

* * *

Allen relaxes ever so slightly at the warm feeling of Ed settling themselves inside a corner of Allen’s soul. He’s stuck in a gloriously decorated living room with black leather furniture, and a sinfully soft white carpet that soothes Allen’s aching feet. The walls were painted gold, and lined with picture frames of similar deep brown skinned amber eyed family members. Allen smells a picture of Road hugging Neah and wants to be sick. There are windows on one wall that let in the moonlight, the room lit by two Tiffany lamps on varnished wooden side tables. There’s some sort of huge touch screen mounted on the wall, but when Allen tries to touch it to activate it, Tyki says, “Boy? Do you want something with the TV?”

Allen shrugs, with a smile. “No. I was just curious.”  _ What’s a TV? _

As Allen sits on the leather couch, tense as a loaded spring, Neah sitting on the couch beside him, he relaxes slightly at Ed’s appearance as he smells the other Noah file in.

_ Where have you been? _ Allen demands.

_ Geez, sorry. I didn’t know you were so needy. _ Ed teased.  _ I was just checking on my body, like you suggested. _

Allen sighs.

_ Sorry, I’m just a bit stressed. _

_ You’re telling me. _ Ed mutters.

“Hey Allen, are you alright?” Neah asks.

Allen turns to him with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

_ You’re tense as a loaded spring, Allen _ .

_ Shut up. _ Allen snaps.

_ What’s so bad about this family meeting, anyway? _ Ed asks.  _ You act like you’re in a room full of enemies. _

_ I am! _ Allen yells. He takes a deep breath.  _ It’s complicated. _

_ Well. Shit. Do I need to come over there? Where are you? _

_ Ed, you’re injured. You need to rest. _

_ You’re injured too, and I don’t see you resting. _

Allen takes another deep breath in through his nose, as Wisely sits down across from them and Tyki takes a seat next to him. Allen notices that Wisely smells significantly different from the other Noah. His skin is grey, his sclera black with golden eyes, with doe like ears and small pointed black horns on his head. His hands are clawed, and a slim tail with a triangular point on the end curls around him as he sits. 

Allen pushes his left hand into his pocket, hiding it, though logically he knows they must have already seen it. Judging by Wisely’s sharp eyes and Tyki’s intrigued expression, and the way Neah shuffles closer to him on the couch at their inspection, they’ve definitely seen.

_ At least that guy sitting next to you seems to like you _ . Ed encourages.

_ Neah? No way! _ Allen argues.

_ No, really. He seems really protective of you. _

Allen turns his head and sniffs. Neahs emotions were ranging from nervous to protective anger, but Allen wasn’t at all sure that this protection was directed at him. If anything, it was directed against him.

_ Maybe he just wants to protect the other two from me.  _ Allen offers.

_ Really, that's what you get from smelling him up like that? _ Ed exclaims.  _ You must have some serious beef with this guy. _

_ I do not have ‘serious beef’ with anyone! _ Allen huffs.  _ Also please don’t call it that. _

_ I’ll call it whatever I damn well want to _ . Ed snorts.

Allen is shocked when a bright smell of candy and candle wax barrels its way into the room in a blur of black, grey and white. The blur tackles Neah into a hug, and the scent of blood fills Allen’s nose. The blur resolves itself into the form of a little girl, fluffy black hair, amber eyes, and grey skin. She’s wearing her Noah uniform, a fluffy, white ragged cut dress with black sleeves that form into fingerless gloves that went over her shoulders with a square shape cut near her neck, the black dipping down into the V shape in the middle. Like Wisely she has a more demonic form, with medium sized knife-like black horns on her head.

“Neah~!” Road Kamelot says gleefully, hugging his neck, her smile flashing fangs.

Neah smiles. “Hey Road.” He says, reaching out and placing his hand on top of her head.

Road pouts, and then slings herself onto Neah’s lap, turn to look back at him with keen interest. “Hey Neah, you wanna hear about what happened on patrol today?”

Neah winces. So does Allen. If Road comes back smelling of blood, then no doubt she had an interesting time of it. Allen hopes his friends are okay. If they’re even here, but he has to assume they are, in some capacity, since some version of the Noah are here.

“I’d really rather not, Road.”

“Aw! Come on! Pleease!” Road begs, and in the middle of begging, her eyes catch sight of Allen. Her eyes widen, and then narrow thoughtfully. 

“Who’s he?” Road asks, her eyes interested.

Allen stiffens under her attention before forcing himself to relax. But he can still feel the ghost of her candlestick plunging into his left eye.

“You’re getting interested in boys now, Road?” Tyki teases with a fond smile.

“Only as interested as you, Tyki dear~!” Road shoots back with a grin. Tyki winces.

“Fair,” Wisely says with a nod, amused. “And that’s Allen by the way. He’s the newest family member.”

Road turns back to Allen, and he tries not to squirm under her gaze, sinking his feet into the carpet so she can’t see the fresh scars there.

“Hi! I’m Road!” Road greets.

“Allen Walker.” Allen says, with a forced, polite smile.

Road tilts her head, as if something had intrigued her, and she smiles and says, “Oh! And that walking cancerstick is Tyki! Don’t worry, he’s super nice!” She informs chirpily. Tyki huffs at her description, mumbling something uncomplimentary under his breath. Allen feels a bit of a disconnect between himself and what’s going on in reality. He and Road, having a normal conversation, with no threats being uttered? She hadn’t even tried to kiss him! …Maybe he should just enjoy it while it lasts?

“And that person over there is Wisely.” Road continues. “Don’t worry about him. He can be a bit rude about personal boundaries, but that’s not really his fault.” Wisely sighs long-sufferingly at this.

Allen’s eyebrows raise. He looks at Wisely for an explanation, though already knowing at least most of it. “I’m a world-class fuckin’ mind reader.” Wisely says. “But I can’t always control what I hear or don’t hear. ’S like listening in on millions of conversations at once. ‘Cept without being able to plug your ears all the way.” 

Wow. That sounds horrible.

“Your mind is particularly quiet, however.” Wisely states, his eyes sharp, and Allen sits, baffled. Before he can reply to ask just what Wisely means, a loud voice comes bursting into the room.

“Alright, I’m here for your damned summons, now what do you… want…” The voice trails off, and Allen turns and comes face to face with himself.

 

* * *

Ed resurfaces out of Allen’s soul with a grimace, to the sound of multiple voices in the room. He keeps his body lax and his breathing even, in order to listen in on the conversation.

“-got hurt in that damned war again, Marian!”

Ed’s breath hitches slightly before he evens it out again. War? What the hell was she talking about? And what had Ed gotten involved in without his prior knowledge?

Were his family involved in this too?

“Yeah, so? The girl’s a soldier, this is what she signed up for. If you don’t like it, quit your job for all I care.” This Marian bastard says. Wow, harsh. And apparently the freaking hospital he was in was involved in it too? Fucking brilliant.

“I’m fine Ms. Richardson, really. You don’t need to worry so much.” A young female voice says tiredly. 

“You’re fine when I say you’re fine! Now go back to bed, Lenalee. You look awful.”

“Who’s the kid?” Marian asks.

“His name is Alphonse Blue,” The Head Nurse says distractedly, “he was brought in here by another nurse working for the Order.” Ed perks up. The Order? What’s that I wonder? A secret I spy?

“You know the kid’s awake, right?” Marian asks. Ed hears a girlish giggle.

Ms. Richardson sighs. “Yes, I was aware of that, Marian, thank you for pointing it out.”

Crap.

Busted.

Ed opens his eyes and glares around the room. Along with the Head Nurse, there’s a black haired, purple eyed teenage girl laying down in the bed across from his that appears to be injured, and a green eyed man with long red hair standing in the middle of the room, smirking at Ed.

Ed scowls back. “What gave me away?” He demands.

Marian’s smirk grows smug. “Next time you wanna listen in on a conversation in a hospital room, brat, you might want to disconnect the heart monitor first.”

Ed scowls and looks up at said machine. Betrayed. By a fucking machine. Is this his life now?

“Well, I’ll leave you to your work. I’ve got things to do.” Marian says, and exits the room in a swirl of tobacco smoke and alcohol, the door slamming shut behind him.

“That man.” The Head Nurse says peevishly.

Lenalee giggles. “That’s Cross for you.”

Ed shifts in bed to get a better look at the girl, Lenalee he guesses. She has chin length black hair and light purple eyes, and she’s wearing some sort of black and pinkish red uniform, with a reddish pink skirt and catsuit pants underneath that are ripped and bloody, with a long scratch on her abdomen that the Head Nurse is treating, cutting open her shirt to get to the wound. The girl looks familiar, but Ed’s not sure why.

Ed looks away to give her privacy. It’s not like he would find any attraction if he looked anyway, beyond maybe finding her aesthetically pleasing. Truth, he wishes she were hot. Maybe then, Winry wouldn’t have looked at him as if he had hated her for not liking her back after she had kissed him.

It wasn’t her fault.

She just hadn’t understood. She had felt like he was rejecting her, when that wasn’t it at all. Ed was broken inside, a vital piece to his humanity missing. In the end, Ed was just spare parts in a drawer, but that wasn’t Winry’s fault. 

It was Ed’s. And Ed was the reason the whole family fell apart, Al and Pinako refusing to pick sides but feeling stuck in the middle of Ed and Winry’s spat.

And Ed, unable to explain himself, had left for Central command, to work under Mustang until he could figure things out.

But that had obviously never happened.

But maybe, this time, he’ll get a second chance.

Ed feels as Allen settles himself into his chest, a warm weight that makes breathing easier, somehow. Ed’s not in the habit of analyzing that shit, so he doesn’t let it bother him.

_ Hey, Ed. _ Allen greets.

_ Hey, you okay?  _ Ed asks.

_ Yeah. I mean, the meeting’s over, so… yeah. _

_ That meeting was bullshit. _ Ed says.

_ Yeah, basically _ . Allen agrees.  _ Thanks for being there for me. _

_ Yeah. Whatever.  _ Ed says, embarrassed.  _ So I’ve learned some new stuff while you were gone. _

_ Really? What is it? _

_ Something about an ‘Order’. There was some jerk with red hair in here talking shit and there’s a girl in here with me that’s injured from fighting some sort of war. _

Ed’s pissed off again, so he’s not prepared for the slew of emotions that come from Allen. Part pain, part loss, part fear. Ed’s not sure exactly, but he feels the painful squeeze in his chest, twin to Allen’s own.

_ Can you… turn your head to see her? Please? _

Ed turns his head, the dark haired, purple eyed girl in his vision, all wrapped up in bandages on her abdomen, laying on the bed beside his. He feels Allen’s shock, joy, and grief, but he doesn’t ask. It’s not his business, even if he is sharing headspace with the guy. Their unspoken goal is to find out more about this new world they’re in together, without getting caught out as something they shouldn’t be. Getting involved in each other’s personal lives isn’t on the quota.

_ Why is a girl in my hospital room anyway? Shouldn’t they be worried about propriety or something? _

_ The Black Order is more worried about the war than gender roles _ . Allen answers.

_ The what? _

_ I think that’s the organization she works for. But it might be different from how I remember it given the circumstances. _

_ Alright, I’ll question her then. _ Ed answers.

_ Be careful with your words. _

_ Yeah, yeah. _

Ed turns to this Lenalee girl, and asks her, “So, what’s this about the Order? And who was that shitfaced redhead?” Ed could have smelled the alcohol on him from ten feet away, and he’s not the one with smell-sight synesthesia.

“Oh, that was Cross Marian.” Lenalee winces. “He… can be a little hard to deal with at times.”

_ That’s Master for you. _ Allen snarks, but Ed can feel the pain radiating from him.

_ That shitfaced asshat was your teacher?!  _ Ed asks, outraged.

He can hear Allen’s sigh from here.  _ The one and only.  _ He says fatalistically, with a hint of sarcasm.

_ Wow. Tough luck. _

_ Yes. Quite. _

“As for The Order, well, that’s a bit more complicated.” Lenalee says with a grimace.

Ed makes an aborted motion to cross his arms over his chest, finding one arm and a phantom pain where the right arm should be, he drops the arm and clenches his fingers in the bedsheets, scowling at her. “I can handle complicated.”

An odd look comes over Lenalee’s face. “Yes, I don’t doubt that you can.” Shifting over in bed with a pained grimace, she smiles at him, a sad look in her eyes. “I’m just not sure if I want you to.” Ed blinks and looks at her sad face. This is probably a ‘I don’t want to get you involved’ type of situation. Ed had seen it before. Hell, he had felt it before. He sympathized, he did, but that wasn’t helping him right now.

_ Tell her you once had a friend who disappeared under mysterious circumstances. _ Allen urges.

_ Why? _ Ed asks, confused.

_ That’s how The Black Order operated before. They fought machines called Akuma that killed people by turning their bodies into ash using a viral poison, killing them within seconds of it being injected into their bloodstream. _

_ Seriously? _ Ed asks.

_ I’m afraid so. _ Allen replies.

_ How were the Akuma not all destroyed immediately then? Were their numbers too high? _ Ed questions. 

_ That was part of it. The other part was that the Akuma could blend in seamlessly with the human population, making it difficult for the Exorcists to track them down unless they purposely made themselves targets with their uniforms. _

_ There was no way to tell at all? _ Ed questions, starting to understand how serious this whole thing was.

_ No. No one could detect them.  _ Allen answers.

_ Well, shit, gimme an omelet and we’ll make the worst fucking scrambled eggs in history. _ Ed snipes.

Ed looks back up at Lenalee, then looks down at his bedsheets. He glares at them, the white sheets shifting and changing before his eyes to things long best forgotten.

“I knew this little girl, once.” Ed starts. “Her name was Nina.” Nina’s smiling face. Nina and Al making flower crowns in the front yard of the Tucker house, Ed making fun of them for being girly but secretly enjoying the flower crown that Nina had made just for him.

“I was studying for an exam, and her father was helping me. So me and Nina became friends. But then-”

“Big Brother?” Nina asked, her white canine head covered with the old Nina’s brown hair, her too human eyes in a canine face crying, tears running down her furred face.

“Big Brother, it hurts…”

Blink.

Tucker’s blood covering his fist, splattering his face. I’m not like you! I can’t be like you. If I am, then Al… 

What is Al?

No.

No!

I’m not… 

Alchemy can’t be like this. Alchemy isn’t.

But it is.

It is.

Humans… human knowledge and what people go to to get it. That’s part of what Alchemy is.

We’re only human.

And sometimes humans can be terrible people.

Nina… 

I’m sorry. 

I’m so, so sorry, Nina.

“Ah, I remember now.” Lenalee’s voice says, drawing Ed back into the present. “The Nina Tucker case, right?” Lenalee asks, and Ed’s blood goes cold.

Lenalee taps her finger on her lips, uncaring of the tube stuck in her elbow, and says, “Yeah, his dad was going to turn her into a Chimera, but then two Alchemists stopped him, right?” Lenalee frowns. “Apparently he already turned his wife into one, which is what he got arrested for.” 

Her eyes lit up. “You must be the other Alchemist that saved Nina! The one the military didn’t name.” She frowns. “You don’t feel guilty for Tucker’s death, do you? You know you couldn’t have known that Scar would kill him.”

_ Uh-oh. _ Allen says.

_ Yeah, no shit. _ Ed snaps.

_ You are an Alchemist, at least? _ Allen tries.

_ Used to be. I can’t do shit anymore. _ Ed bites out.

_ So you at least know about… whatever it is _ . Allen encourages.

_ Yeah. At least _ . Ed grumbles.  _ Assuming Alchemy isn’t different too. _

Ed’s about to open his mouth, to say, something, when a new and entirely familiar person enters the room.

“Hey Lenalee! How are you holding up?” Al asks, his golden eyes settling on Lenalee. Ed feels conflicted. He wants to drink in the sight of him, healthy, whole. Alive again. But this isn’t his Al. Al isn’t really alive. His Al, the Al he loved and treasured, is still dead. But this Al… This Al’s golden hair is short, with bangs curving to either side on his forehead, like the haircut his Al got after he got his body back. 

“I’m fine, Al! You don’t need to worry so much.” Lenalee chides. “Speaking of Alphonses, though, this is Alphonse Blue. I believe you know each other?”

Ed only has time to feel a jolt of alarm before Other Alphonse’s gold eyes shift to Ed and a look of surprised recognition crosses his face. “Oh! You’re the Alchemist who helped me save Nina! Thanks so much for your help, I couldn’t have saved her without you!” Ed blinks, a feeling of disoriented déjà vu rolling over him. He shakes his head to clear it. So much was wrong with those two sentences that he didn’t even know where to start.

But. Better to play it safe.

“It was no problem.” Ed says, lying through his teeth, “I would have done anything to save her.” That was the truth.

Other Al’s eyes soften. “I could see that.” He says softly. He sits down on the edge of Ed’s bed, Ed making a bit of room for him on automatic, without question.

Other Al smiles then, his eyes twinkling. “So your name is Alphonse?” He teases. “No wonder you didn’t want to exchange names.”

Ed scowls. “Just call me Blue.” He mutters darkly. This is wrong. This is wrong. He’s not Alphonse. He’s not. Yet. He acts just. Just like him. Ed’s heart twists in his chest, and he ignores it. Fucking fine. So this is how it was. He’ll just… have to deal.

_ Blue? Really? _ Allen asks, amused.

_ Shut up. _ Ed says, embarrassed.

_ Say Ed. _ Allen says.

_ Yeah? _ Ed asks, annoyed.

_ Do you use male pronouns? _

This is totally baffling.  _ What do you mean? I’m a guy, if that was in any doubt _ . Ed grouches. Something occurs to him.  _ Why? Are you not a guy? _ He had sort of assumed that the name ‘Allen’ implied implicit dudeness, but who knows with some people.

_ Of course I am! _ Allen snaps, offended.  _ And it’s confusing, I don’t really completely understand it either. Apparently asking people their pronouns is a thing here, though. _

_ Oh. Okay. _ That’s a little weird, but whatever.

_ Hey. _

_ What?! _

_ Are you okay? _

_ Yeah, I’m fine _ .

Allen can probably tell it’s not true, because he sends comforting emotions Ed’s way, and that  _ is not _ helping dammit. It’s not. Even if the constriction in his chest  _ is _ looser.

“Alright.” Other Al says, with a smile. “It’s certainly better than both of us going by Alphonse.” He frowns, worry flickering in his eyes. “What happened to your arm?”

Ed shrugs his remaining shoulder. The constriction tightens. Al should already know what happened to his arm. Al knows everything about him. Shut up. He’s not Al. “I lost it. No big deal.” He says dismissively.

Other Al nods sympathetically. “Do you have a good mechanic on call?”

Alarm bells go off in Eds head. How did the Other Al know that Ed had an automail leg? Or worse, was he talking about the arm that had yet to exist in this world? Either way, something was fishy, and Ed didn’t want to involve Winry in it at all. If she wasn’t involved already.

_ Be careful, Ed. _ Allen warns, likely sensing Ed’s alarm but not knowing the cause.

Ed takes a deep breath, Allen curling himself around Ed’s soul, at what Ed assumed was the approximation of a soul-hug. He takes another.

_ Gotcha. _ He says, with a smirk.

Still smirking, Ed says, “Nope. ‘Fraid not.”

Other Al blinks, surprised at the change in demeanor. “I could give you a recommendation. They’re old family friends.” He offers.

“Me too,” Lenalee adds. Ed and Al both turn to look at her, Al with a look of apology and Ed with a look of annoyance, and Lenalee bursts into laughter.

Ed frowns. “What?” He demands.

“Are you feeling alright, Lenalee? I’m sorry for ignoring you, I just got caught up in talking to Blue…” Other Al apologizes.

Lenalee grins, eyes bright. “Sorry, sorry. You two just look so alike, you look like a pair of brothers. You even sort of act like it, too. It’s cute.” She looks over at Ed. “Also, I think I know someone who could make you an arm, if you had something valuable to trade for it.” 

Ed grins. “Thanks. Introduce me to him, would you?”

Lenalee laughs nervously, rubbing the back of her head. “You sort of… already met him?”

Ed frowns. The only other man he had met other than Al had been… 

Ed’s eyes bug out. “NO.”

Lenalee laughs, clutching her stomach.

Ed’s about to go on a rant when he meets Other Al’s eyes. Other Al’s eyes are sharp, and Ed finds he’s suddenly being thoroughly examined by his (not) baby brother. His eyes, his hair, his face, his jawline. “I had dismissed it before.” Other Al says softly. “But you…” He looks Ed in the eyes. “You look an awful lot like my father.”

Ed swallows down his rage at being compared to  _ him _ , and says, not sure to hope or not sure to despair, “I do?” 

Al nods. “Yes. You do.” He bites his lip. “Do you mind… could we maybe get some blood testing done? Just to see if there’s any validity to it?”

Ed’s heart is trying to beat itself to a pulp in his chest, nearly palpitating from excitement and happiness and a desire to not be here, for the real Al to be here, and at the same time Ed thinks he could die happy at being confirmed Al’s brother, he thinks he could die from the sheer betrayal of it.

Ed smiles. It’s shaky, but there. Well, here it goes. “Yeah. Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed and Al are together again. *squees* I have waited so long for this chap. Also Ed is suspicious about Allen's origins.
> 
> How he became suspicious in the first place:
> 
> Chimäre = Chimera in German. 
> 
> I figured since Ed was going up North in the manga he might have studied Drachman languages. And since Drachma is basically Russia and German is the second-best language spoken in Russia, I figure, it's plausible Ed would know some of it. Enough to know what is vital to his own vocabulary, or alchemy in general, at least. *shrug.*
> 
> Everything else, plus what happened in the meeting and where I'm going with all this, you'll find out next chapter. (Hopefully. I've got some of it written out, anyway. I'll try not to get off track with what I've got planned, but ADD is sometimes just like, "nope!" :p)
> 
> Also I gave Head Nurse a name, and a bit more characterization than she had in the manga. Tell me what you think?
> 
> See ya'll next chapter!


	5. Two Meetings and Two Interruptions: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late Merry Christmas/Happy Hanukkah/Happy Kwanzaa or whatever ya'll celebrate or don't celebrate!
> 
> Trigger Warnings for PTSD, mentions of torture, claustrophobia/anxiety attack, vomiting, violence and gore.
> 
> P.S.: Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger. :P

**Hours before…**

Allen stares up at his mirror image in a sort of fascinated horror. White hair that was tied in a ribbon and went quarterways down his back, parts hanging near his face with bangs similar to Allen’s own. His blue-grey eyes. That pale Brit skin, that could never tan no matter how hard Allen tried, not to mention the angled red scar, going down the left side of his double’s face in a perfect mirror of Allen’s.

Allen took another sniff, and right there, on top of his head, were fox-like reddish-brown ears, a fluffy tail spanning out behind him twin to Allen’s own. He was wearing gloves, but Allen had no doubt he had claws underneath them. His attire included a white dress shirt with a black waistcoat with a ribbon at the collar, black pants and shoes, white gloves, and a familiar golden earring.

The only difference is their age. The other Allen looks to be about Neah’s age, around nineteen or twenty.

The whole thing felt surreal, in a way it hadn’t before now. Staring at an older version of himself who looked just as flummoxed by his own existence, Allen wanted everything to just stop for a second, so he could breathe. The room felt too small, trapping him, the walls seeming to narrow the more he focused on them, his mouth unbearably dry and his chest tight, despite not wearing his binder.

“Alan, this is Allen.” Neah says, a note of accusation in his voice.

The other Allen ignores him, walking up to Allen with a gentle, hesitant look in his eyes. He crouches down in front of Allen and peers at his feet, Allen pulls them away from him and tries to sink them deeper into the carpet. His head pounds and his chest aches, he’s too close. The other Allen looks at his remaining exposed hand next, examining the… fingers?

“You must be very scared.” The man murmurs.

“Yeah, we sort of caught on to that." Tyki snarks teasingly.

The other Allen ignores him. He focuses his blue-grey eyes on Allen. “These claws shouldn’t be out,” he says, taking off his right glove to show Allen his clawless fingernails. “Do you want some help retracting your claws?”

Wordlessly Allen nods, his mouth dry, chills going up his back.

“Now I want you to think of something calming, something that makes you happy.”

_ The door to Allen’s cell opens, Allen getting to his feet in a weak battle stance, to see Lenalee. _

_ “Lenalee?” Allen croaks, sure this is all some dream. “How are you here?” _

_ “I knocked out the guards of course! Now come on, Let’s go!” _

no-

_ Allen’s stomach lets out a pitiful growl, and he knows he’s passed from hunger to starvation mode when he feels a bit less hungry than usual.  _

_ Kanda sighs next to him. _

_ “What is it, Kanda?” Johnny asks. _

_ “We need to get the beansprout something to eat.” He proclaims, and the two start heading for the nearest food place, despite Allen’s protests, Kanda rubbing his arms as if he were cold. _

No!

Allen becomes aware that he’s digging his fingers into his palms, which is actually quite painful, ow. 

Voices filter into his ears, and Allen breathes in the familiar scent of shampoo and aftershave, and he relaxes. Even after all this time, he still remembers how Mana smells. Allen blinks up at the man who’s holding him, recognizing his features in Mana’s, though younger. The high planes of his cheekbones, the grey of his skin, his curly hair tied in a ribbon going down his back, the luminescent gold and black sclera of his eyes, glaring and shouting accusations. 

There’s static in Allen’s ears.

A part of Allen soars at seeing Mana, alive again. Another part of Allen stares in shock, huddling sadly and waiting for the pain to go away.

Because Mana is the Earl.

The Earl is Mana.

And Allen cannot handle being around either version, at the moment.

He loves him, he loves him dearly, but-

Blood dripping down Crown Clown’s blade-

-he can’t handle this right now.

“You’ve obviously only made it worse!” Mana cries, clutching Allen closer to his chest.

“They look really deep.” Neah agrees, backing his brother up.

“The claws are gone now.” The other Allen points out peevishly, and as one Neah and Mana turn to Allen, Allen too looking down to see his clawless fingernails.

The wonders of Mana. He thinks with a smile.

But Allen’s chest aches, his head pounds like a drum, his stomach churning like a boat caught in sea drenched storm waves. The walls are closing in on him, too close, he  _ can’t breathe _ . He bolts for the door.

Suddenly he’s puking his guts out on the front lawn, shivering and shaking, cold chills running up his spine.

-A hot pincer glows red in the chamber from being put in the fire. It’s put to exposed flesh, cutting and burning as it goes-

Allen throws up again.

-the smell of burned flesh and the sound of Allen’s screams fill the air.-

Allen’s dry heaving at this point, there being nothing but bile in his stomach to begin with.

His arms and legs ache, especially his shoulders and hip bones. He rolls his shoulders experimentally, and gets hot flashes of pain in both shoulder joints. He supposes he should be glad that they aren’t popping out of their sockets right now.

“Are you alright, boy?”

Allen freezes. Sitting up, he takes a deep whiff and smells that familiar cologne and cigarette smell, leaning back against the wall of the Manse, a drift of smoke in the air.

“I’m fine.” Allen says stiffly. Standing up shakily in his borrowed clothes, he shoves his left hand in his pocket again, and walks off.

_ Where are you going, exactly? _ Ed asks.

_ I’m walking.  _ Is all Allen can answer.

Just keep walking. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but it would be somewhere.

He ends up in a forested clearing before he can no longer keep going, completely lost. He sits down in the dew laden grass, the soft grass feeling soothing against his bare aching feet, and looks up at the darkened sky, smelling out the stars. A soft breeze blows through the trees, bringing the scent of greenery and life to Allen’s nose. The leaves whisper secrets to the trees, singing soft lullabies to the buds yet to flower. About ten feet away, Allen can smell an anthill, worker ants busily moving leaves and dead bugs to be devoured.

Allen sighs.

What now? He asks himself, closing his eyes.

It seems I’ve reached my destination. But I want more than what was offered to me. I want my friends back. I want my old life back. I want… 

I want peace between the Noah and the Exorcists. Even if I don’t like what I have become… everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone deserves forgiveness. Even… even the Black Order. I want a world where I can forgive the Noah… forgive the Order… where I can unite the Noah and the Order and be who I have unwillingly become and still have my friends!

I need to make this real. I need to make it happen.

And I will.

I promise I will!

I will keep walking until the day I die until this dream is a reality.

Allen feels a rush of power flow through his body. When he opens his eyes, the world has changed around him.

There are these bright lights that he can see all around him, all colors of the rainbow, and the weird part is that he can actually  _ see _ them. Standing up to see them better, he can tell that he’s seeing them from a long way off, a lot like his left eye. The depth also seems to be off somehow, and experimentally he closes each eye. He finds he can only see it out of his left eye, which is to be expected. But this means that his left eye must have gained a new ability, meaning this must, somehow, connect to souls.

But how?

_ Ed? Are you seeing this? _ Allen asks.

_ Yeah. I’m just not sure if you’re hallucinating or not. _ Ed answers.

_ Thanks for the vote of confidence. _ Allen sniffs.

_ You’re welcome. _ Ed answers with a smirk.

Allen looks down, and sees his own burning blue light in the center of his chest, branching out from his body, with bolts of lightning striking out from the epicenter like an electric storm. Branching out from the main body are blue strands of Allen’s soul, and Allen examines one in particular that looks new and tenuous, mixed with a golden strand that tints Allen’s soul gold where it touches.

Curious, Allen touches on the strand. It twangs, the reverberation running down the string.

He feels Ed startle.

_ What the fuck was that?! _ Ed exclaims, unsettled.

_ You felt that? _ Allen asks.

_ Yeah I felt that! _ Ed yells, angry.

_ What did it feel like? _ Allen queries.

_ Felt like some sort of reverberation in my chest, plus some emotional bullshit. What the hell did you do? _ Ed demands.

_ …I’m not sure. _ Allen admits.

_ Well don’t do it again. Not to anyone else either.  _ Ed says seriously.  _ That was… I can’t really describe it. But I’d rather not experience it again, or have anyone else go through it either. Alright? _

_ Alright.  _ Allen says, starting to feel guilty.  _ I’m sorry. _

_ Hey, hey.  _ Ed says.  _ It’s… it’s not your fault, Allen. You didn’t do anything wrong, not on purpose, and I really am fine, okay? It’s not your fault you got some new bullshit power that you have to work through, so don’t feel guilty, okay? _

_ I’m fine. _ Allen tells him. 

Ed snorts.  _ Just let me help you, idiot. _

A wave of comfort envelops Allen, he can feel Ed wrapping themselves around him in a warm golden blanket, and Allen hesitates, blinking back tears. But he knows Ed can feel every single thing he’s feeling. He can’t lie to Ed. Can’t reassure them that he’s fine like he wants to. Something in his chest becoming heavy yet light all at once, he sniffles and pulls the Ed blanket around himself, sitting down in the grass and breathing in the fondness and the trust that Ed’s soul enfolds him in.

A lump forms in Allen’s throat.

He swallows it down.

He closes his eyes and just breathes. 

 

* * *

Allen walks back to the Manse, Ed’s sense of direction guiding him. It helps that he can follow his own scent back the way he came, but Ed is a good help too when the scents get mixed up with others.

Allen’s also getting increasingly distracted by the lights of people’s souls that he sees as he passes by, and he begins to wonder what the Noah’s souls will look like. He already knows what Ed’s looks like.

Allen walks up the long road up to the Manse, feeling unsettled by the oddly textured road next to the sidewalk. It was completely smooth and dark, with stripes in the middle that Allen could not divine the purpose of. Allen was used to roads being cobbled or made of wood, stinking of horse dung and piss. The sidewalk was weird too, made up entirely of concrete, no wooden boards in sight.

It was unsettling. Like the whole world had turned alien and strange, had somehow changed without him noticing. Which, to be fair, it hadn’t. Allen was the interloper here, the alien one, the outsider. But the differences in his surroundings made it really hard to adjust to how things were going to be for… well, probably the rest of his life.

However long that was.

_ Hey Ed, have you noticed anything different about this place? _ Allen asks.

_ What do you mean? There’s a of lot of of stuff different about this place, so you’re going to have to be a bit more specific. _ Ed says.

_ Well… It’s just that… they have toilets inside of people’s houses now, the roads and sidewalks are different, and there was something called a touchscreen that operated a shower-thingy, but I’ve only ever used a bath before. And I’m looking around and there aren’t any stables or carriages, and I’m not actually sure where the nearest train station is?  _ Allen says, expecting Ed to understand.

_ Allen… there is so much wrong with what you just said.  _ Ed huffs, half a laugh in his voice. He turns serious.  _ But yeah, I get what you mean. There’s this weird machine in the hospital called a heart monitor, and they also have this thing called a television in the room. I’ve only ever heard radios before. _

_ Oh! Do you mean the TV? What does it do? _ Allen asks.

_ It… plays pictures. _ Ed says, not acting baffled at all.

_ Pictures?? _ Allen asks, confused.

_ Pictures. _ Ed says, sounding completely knowledgeable and confident about the subject.

Damn them. Allen thinks.

_ …Oh. I see. _ Allen replies.

_ Yep! _ Ed says, chipper.

_ So, do you think we’re in, like, a different time? _ Allen queries.

_ It’s a possibility, considering where we landed. But it’d be suspicious to just ask the date out of the blue, especially for me, there might be questions about my health. Again. _ Ed sighs. Allen can sense Ed’s exasperation and impatience. Allen’s surprised they haven’t broken out of the hospital by now.

_ I’m sure they’ll let you out soon. _ Allen says, sending Ed a wave of reassurance and encouragement.

_ Yeah. Whatever. _ Ed says, embarrassed.

Allen walks up the long sidewalk, smelling the road lined with row upon row of huge mansion like houses, with neatly mown lawns and elaborate decorations, lets Allen know he’s in one of the more upper class neighborhoods. He tries not to let his shoulders instinctually hunch, but he can’t really help it. Kids like him, when he was younger, well… They’d be booted out of these types of neighborhoods. Forcefully. With the cops called on their tails. 

Allen snorts.

He doubts the police force is any less corrupt today than it is (was?) in the 19th century.

He finally comes across the Campbell mansion, and notices that his mess from earlier has been cleaned up on the front lawn.

His left eye immediately reacts to a soul nearby. Allen blinks. The soul, while a blue-ish purple, reminds Allen distinctly of a peacock, ruffling out it’s feathers and tinted dozens of colors.

Allen smells the familiar scent of cologne and cigarette smoke, and greets, in a friendly tone, “Hello, Tyki.”

The peacock feathers ruffle in surprise, colors blooming brighter in pleasure. “Hey, boy. Good to see you back.” Tyki’s scent turns to concerned, but he simply says, “The others are waiting. Let’s go in.”

Allen nods, and follows him inside. When they enter, a smell that has almost become foreign to Allen makes itself known. It smells delicious, but despite this, his stomach makes not a sound. He doesn’t feel hungry at all, and he knows that’s a bad sign.

Following his nose now more than Tyki, he enters the dining room with the large varnished oval shaped ebony table with matching ornate chairs and seat and back cushions built into the chairs. The hardwood floors are covered with an elaborate carpet under the table, and a glass chandelier hangs overhead, lighting the room with it’s glow.

Around the table sit Neah, Road, and Tyki starting at the end of the table on one side, with Alan, Wisely, and what appears to be Lulubell in cat form sitting at the table on the other side. Mana is at the head of the table, and there’s a place between Alan and Wisely that’s been left empty. At this empty place setting, on the table is a bowl of soup, a spoon laying beside it. Allen stares at it perplexedly for a moment, before sitting down at the table with the rest of his ‘family’. 

Where’s Sheryl? He wonders, and the twins?

And how much trouble are me and my double about to be in? He wonders, smelling around the table carefully. No one seemed hostile. They seemed a bit worried and concerned, but Allen wasn’t sure why.

“We decided to try something small for your stomach.” Neah breaks the ice, nodding to Allen’s soup with a gentle look in his eyes. “It should be easily digestible.”

Allen nods, picking up his spoon. “Thank you.” He says politely. He spoons up a bit of it, sniffing it critically, but it doesn’t smell bad, so he takes a hesitant sip. It tastes good. Warmth blooms in his stomach, and his hunger comes roaring to life.

He starts spooning it up faster, but it’s not long before there’s a hand on his shoulder. “Easy there,” Wisely cautions, amused, “I can feel you’re hungry, but you don’t want it all to come back up again, or, worse, for it to be too much for your stomach to hold. Go slowly.”

Allen nods, and eats slower.

“So,” Mana says, with a smile. Allen jerks up to look at him, nearly dropping his spoon. “We’re all gathered here today to welcome our newest member of the family, and to inform him on some facts about his new life.” Mana turns and looks him in the eyes, a friendly smile on his face. “Allen, what do you know about demons?”

_ Demons?! _ Ed demands.

Demons, not Akuma? Allen wonders numbly, still caught on the way Mana had said his name. Like a stranger’s name, no fondness or familiarity at all.

He replays it in his head until he can’t remember exactly how it was said. How that one precious word had passed by Mana’s lips.

Allen, Allen, Allen.

What was a name, exactly?

Everything and nothing. 

To him, at least

“Not much, sir.” Allen answers, his mask slipping, slipping, slipping, until he’s not sure what expression is on his face. 

Not Mana, not Mana, not-

“Well, I’ll give you the basics.” Mana says, his smile brightening.

Except he is, isn’t he? Just another version of him.

Allen’s face feels broken, stuck in place, but Mana seems not to notice. “Demons are creatures from another dimension. They can transform into their demonic forms at will.” Allen nods, just wanting this to be over. This sounds quite familiar, after all.

“The only problem is, that demons need a medium in which to reach the human world.” Mana continues, a frown furrowing his face. Allen’s whole face twitches. What? “That medium being demonic hosts such as the Noah family.”

WHAT?!

Allen has no idea what his expression looks like, his mask feels broken, the shattered pieces of his control slipping through his fingers, but he catches Tyki and Wisely sending him worried looks.

“We can keep the demons in our minds at bay for an indefinite amount of time, however,-” 

Just another version of him that will never be capable of loving you.

Allen gets up out of his chair, the chair legs screeching on the hardwood floors. Mana cuts off, surprised. Allen takes a deep breath, lets it out.

He turns and leaves.

 

* * *

“What was that all about?” Mana asks, baffled.

Wisely says nothing. He says nothing about the torrent of emotions Allen had felt when he had seen the Earl, the way he had instantly calmed when in the demonic host’s arms.

Wisely found it honestly puzzling. And the reason he found it puzzling was because he could not read one thought out of Allen Walker’s head. He doesn’t find it suspicious as he did before because, honestly. The kid was a mess, and that was saying something considering what Tyki had been like when they found him. And he’s  _ still _ in therapy for it.

Not that he thought that this kid would agree to go to therapy. He was private, this kid, and that was even weirder because the only other person he knew who liked his privacy that much was Alan, and the similarities between those two… well, let’s just say, Neah and Mana were going to be having a  _ talk _ with him about having kids born on the other side of the sheets. Wisely could hear it building in their heads.

“The kid freaked out, ‘s what happened.” Wisely comments, because that seems obvious enough. He exchanges a look with Tyki. Tyki’s wondering if they should go check on the boy.  _ Probably. _ Wisely shoots his way.  _ I’m pretty sure he’s puking his guts out in the bathroom right now.  _ Tyki winces sympathetically. Alright. We’ll get a glass of water and check on him. Also quit that. Tyki thinks, annoyed.  _ Yes, of course, right away. _ Wisely snarks, amused, but drops his attention from Tyki’s mind.

“Well, yes, that seems patently obvious.” Lulubell drawls from her position sitting in one of the chairs, shifted into some amalgamation of cat and human that would surely have any Alchemist in an apolcelepsy. “But the question is why.”

“Do you think…?” Mana asks, pointing at himself, a worried look on his face.

“No way to know for sure.” Tyki says, meeting Wisely’s gaze again.

“We could just ask him.” Road points out with a pout.

“What do you think, Wisely?” Neah asks, raising his eyebrows.

Everyone turns to look at him. Moment of truth. Wisely shrugs. “I couldn’t get a read on him.”

“So it’s genetic!” Neah yells, pointing to Alan with accusing eyes.

Alan lifts up his arms. “I wouldn’t go that far…” He tries, looking sheepish.

“C’mon, you’re coming with us for a little chat.” Neah says, storm clouds building behind his eyes, grabbing Alan by the arm and dragging him, Mana not far behind with a chiding look on his face.

Road and Lulubell get up too, obviously off to go watch the scolding with evident interest.

That just leaves Tyki and Wisely.

 

* * *

Allen runs to the bathroom and pukes up that wonderful soup that he had been eating a moment ago. It doesn’t taste nearly as good at its reappearance. An ice cold hand is running through his hair, and the room temperature drops, Allen shivering as goosebumps appear on his arms.

Despite that, the hand feels oddly familiar. Small, but with long, graceful fingers, her hands still mostly spared from the battle roughened calluses because she uses her legs and feet to fight, not her hands.

Allen’s eyes fill with tears, and Allen looks behind himself, and sees Lenalee Lee, gentle smile on her face, body and colors slightly faded by a pale glow surrounding her.

_ “It’s okay, Allen. It’s okay.” _

Allen’s heart drops in his chest. This… this couldn’t be real. She was dead. He had seen her die.

Allen hears a laugh, and he whips his head around to see Lavi, whole and alive, crouching next to him, his green glowing eye shining with mirth.

_ “Are you dead when you’ve come back to life?” _ Lavi queries, playing on Allen’s thoughts from earlier.

_ “Stupid rabbit,” _ Kanda says, suddenly appearing by the closed bathroom door, arms crossed with a scowl on his face, whole body with that same pale glow as the others,  _ “We’re still dead, idiot.” _

Allen blinks. “You’re… ghosts?”

Lavi nods happily.  _ “Yep! Just a new way of living, y’know?” _

Lenalee hugs Allen from behind, and Lavi and Kanda drift over and wrap their arms around him.  _ “And now we’ll never be separated. Ever. Again.” _ Lenalee states.

The other two nod, and Allen smiles, happy tears running down his face.

The door to the bathroom opens with a creak, and Allen’s friends dissipate into nothing with a gust of freezing air. Allen shivers, and wipes his eyes, sniffling a bit and finding he hadn’t cried quite enough for his nose to become clogged. He should probably make a note of that.

He see the familiar peacock soul standing inside the door, and standing beside him was a soul colored sunshine yellow, one that had tinted a large portion of Tyki’s peacock soul. Allen notices that the yellow soul is tinted just as much in Tyki’s blue-ish purple, as well as others that Allen hasn’t seen yet.

He had kept his eye forcefully deactivated at the table. He can control it to some degree, but he’s a little surprised that his curse allowed him to keep it deactivated. He figures he’ll be paying for it later.

He takes a sniff and recognizes Tyki’s smell, as well as Wisely’s herbs and incense smell, and sits up and flushes the toilet, embarrassed.

“Brought you some water,” Wisely offers, walking over, his sunshine yellow soul humming and buzzing like a cat’s purr. It seems particularly agitated, like he’s worried or anxious.

He hands it over, and Allen stands up shakily, swishing and spitting in the toilet, before gratefully downing the rest of the water.

“I guess you would be thirsty.” Wisely says.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, boy.” Tyki says, his tone casual but his smell tense and worried. Allen guesses Tyki might be a little worried about him, he seems and seemed like a genuinely good person who cared about humans, despite his flaws.

Allen never exactly got Wisely’s opinion on humans, but maybe he feels the same.

“Ask me what?” Allen asks.

“What exactly happened to you?” Tyki asks, concern and anger in his tone.

Allen hunches up, the walls of the bathroom suddenly feeling too small. Too closed in. His mouth feels dry, and chills run up his back, his head beginning to pound.

“Can we… go outside to talk about this?” Allen asks hesitantly.

“Alright.” Tyki agrees.

They go outside. Luckily, the dining room has been abandoned so there’s no more run ins with any more Noahs. Allen has his hands full with the two that he has here.

They sit outside on the front lawn, the sky beginning to lighten to purples and pinks.

_ So it’s turning to day, is it? _ Ed’s familiar voice says.

_ Ed! There you are! Where did you go? _ Allen asks, a bit hurt.

_ I didn’t ‘go’ anywhere. _ Ed grumbles irritably, and although there’s no hurt in his voice Allen can feel it in his emotions.  _ You blocked me out somehow. _

_ I did? _ Allen asks.

_ You didn’t even mean to do it? _ Ed says, some of the hurt lessening.

_ No! I had no idea where you went! _

_ Idiot. _ Ed laughs.

_ You’re the idiot _ . Allen retorts, not seriously, knowing by now not to get offended at Ed’s every swear.

“So?” Wisely asks.

Allen swallows. The only story he had here really was the truth. Or, partially. 

“So, I have this, I have this arm.” He gestures to his left arm. He glances up, sniffing. “You knew that.”

Tyki nods. “We did.” He says softly.

Allen looks down again. “I… I used to work for them.” He hears their indrawn gasps of breath. “B-but not anymore.” Allen hurries to add, glances up again quickly. They smell shocked and surprised, but not overtly hostile. 

He swallows hard around the lump in his throat. “They found out I was a demonic host. They… didn’t like that much.”

Finding he’s done with his story, he pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, boy.” Allen looks up at the sound of Tyki’s voice to smell his pain and sympathy.

Allen smiles, but it feels broken. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

He swallows the lump in his throat.

Maybe if he says those words enough, they’ll become true.

 

* * *

**Hours later…**

Ed and Al wait anxiously for the test results to come back in. They talk, but there’s an underlying note of tension that makes it hard to relax around each other like they had before, and it’s driving Ed crazy.

He knows what the test results will say, and part of him just wants his little brother back. The other, more rational part, knows that this Al isn’t his brother, and that forging a relationship with him would be a betrayal to everything he had with the old Al. But Truth, does he want to. He knows the test results will come back positive, it’s just the matter of where to go from there. He just… doesn’t know. And it’s killing him not to know.

This whole thing is driving Lenalee up the wall too, and at some point she just buried her head in her hospital issued pillow and ignored the both of them. Ed wishes he had such luxury.

A knock comes at the hospital room door. Finally! Ed and Other Al turn as one towards it, both eager for news, Other Al calling, “Come on in!”

_ Not that I’m complaining, but shouldn’t there be, like, normal visiting hours? _ Ed questions.

_ The Black Order doesn’t care much about those either.  _ Allen replies, amused.

_ And you would know because you used to be a part of this fucking place. _ Ed says, anger simmering inside him at the thought of what these people must have done to him.

_ …Yes.  _ Allen says, his voice quiet at the admission.

_ Was that Lenalee girl involved?! _ Ed asks, his rage burning hotter.

_ No! She was my friend! _ Allen defends, anger in his voice.

_ Well, she sure didn’t do a lot to help you! _ Ed snarls.

Allen goes abruptly quiet, and Ed thinks he might have hit a nerve.

_ You don’t know what you’re talking about. Truly you don’t. _ Allen says, his voice eerily calm. But Ed can feel his emotions, and that’s how he knows he’s fucked up again.

_ Shit. Just. I’m sorry. You know I have this foot in mouth syndrome, right? Just. Don’t listen to the bullshit that comes out of my mouth. _

He can hear Allen’s wet laugh.  _ Just don’t do it again. _ Allen says, and that’s forgiveness enough for Ed.

_ So we’re good?  _ Ed says.

_ We’re good. _ Allen agrees.  _ I’m going to try to get some rest. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to talk to you while asleep, but I’ll try. _

_ Alright.  _ Ed says.

Ed frowns. He had actually been concerned that Allen wouldn’t forgive him. Maybe he was more fond of the guy than he thought he was. He certainly was beginning to trust him to have his back, maybe even fight by his side. Wait, no, what was he thinking? He’d barely known this guy for a day, and he was already thinking about trusting him? Back up, abort, delete, try again later.

Head Nurse enters the room, carrying a stack of papers clipped to her clipboard, and Ed and Al gaze at her attentively. Head Nurse smiles. “Well, boys, it’s an 80% match.” Ed and Al’s eyes widen. Head Nurse nods, smile softening. “You two are genetically brothers.”

Al turns to Ed with wide eyes. Al grins first, hesitant, and then, so does Ed, his face breaking into a uncertain smile. Ed wants to get to the next step, but also wants that next step to stay the fuck away. Only old Al could call him brother, not this replacement Al. 

Other Al pulls away, dropping off the bed. 

Ed hesitates. Fuck it.

“Where are you going, Al?” He asks, the nickname having popped up in the hours Al spent in the hospital room, despite Ed’s hesitance.

“Just going to call mom, Blue.” Al replies, and Ed’s heart drops out of his chest. Going to call mom. Right. Cause that was a thing they could do, now. Even if she wasn’t, y’know,  _ mom _ .

Ed swallows hard, and says, “Alright, Al.”

 

* * *

Alphonse Elric had yet to know what to make of Alphonse Blue. He was understanding yet irritable, violent yet kind, smart yet oddly dense in some areas, but could run rings around most older alchemists in the field, a lot like Al, and even seemed to get the theory better than Al did judging by their debates on the subject.

He was a walking contradiction, and with Al’s logical brain he had a hard time wrapping his head around him. But Al also tended to think with his heart, not his head. And on the clipboard by Ed’s bed, under, “list of contacts” had been the words, “no next of kin”.

Al had always had a bleeding heart, and the way Ed had looked when Al had mentioned his mother had made his heart ache. He knew what he wanted to do, but it was getting the rest of the family, or rather his mother who was around the most, to agree to it that was making him worried.

He really wants this to work out for Blue. He really likes him so far, and it almost feels like he’s known him all his life, instead of just a day and a half.

And it’d be really nice to have a brother. Though he’s a little hesitant to call him that right now. What if Ed isn’t ready to be called that yet?

Taking his cellphone out of his pocket, he goes to his contacts list and, after taking a deep breath, hits the one that reads “mom”.

He puts the phone to his ear and hears it ring, after only a few rings, the line clicks and his mom’s concerned voice comes over the line. “Alphonse? Why are you calling, is something wrong?”

Something feels disorientingly wrong. Jangling against his senses, burning across his nervous system, making his skin prickle and his hairs rise.

His name is Al… isn’t it? Or maybe it  _ is _ Alphonse. He feels like he should be bigger than he is, and be unhappy but determined about that, but also that he  _ should _ be this size, but curling something around his fingers as he talks on the phone.

“Alphonse? Alphonse are you there?” His mom asks at the other end of the receiver, worried, and why does he have a sudden feeling of guilt and shame at the sound of her voice?

Shaking his head to clear it, Al says, “I’m here, just thinking. Also, could you call me Al? Blue gave me the nickname and I really like it.”

There’s a bit of silence on the other end of the line, then, “Of course, sweetie. Is this the Alphonse Blue at the hospital?

Al nods. “Yeah.” He responds. He hesitates. “Listen, mom. Did you notice anything… familiar about Blue?

He can hear the surprise in his mother’s voice. “What do you mean, Al?

Al swallows. “He looks… an awful lot like dad.”

“Alphonse…” Al can hear sad note in mom’s voice even as she chides him, “I don’t want you getting your hopes up for nothing. Just because he looks like your father-”

“We did a blood test.” Al interrupts. Mom falls silent. “It… it was an 80% match, mom. Biologically, we’re brothers.” More silence. “How is that possible, mom?” Al asks, desperately.

“We tried for a child, before you.” Mom says, and Al can hear the grief in her voice. “The doctors… they said it was a miscarriage, but… I just don’t know Alphonse.” She says, her voice cracking.

Al wants to say so many things, but his mother quickly regains her composure, saying, “If he truly is your brother, he is likely my son.” She’s silent for several moments, and when she speaks, Al can hear the smile in her voice. “You want him as your brother, don’t you?”

Al ducks his head, blinking back tears. He leans against the wall outside Blue’s hospital room and takes a deep breath. “Yeah.” He says softly. “I really do.” 

He can hear the gentle smile in his mother’s voice when she says, “I’ll see what I can do. Stay by your brother, okay Al?”

Al straightens, determination entering his voice. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I love you, Al.” Trisha Elric says.

Al softens. “I love you, too.” He says.

They say their goodbyes, and Al hangs up, with a new determination to not let his brother out of his sight. Just because he was the younger brother didn’t mean he couldn’t be just as protective.

 

* * *

Al renters the room just as Ed was getting tired of pestering Allen. Apparently talking to him while he was asleep caused him to have totally asinine thoughts while talking to Ed.

_ Can’t you just wake the fuck up already? _ Ed grouches.

_ There are only so many steps away from dreaming and being awake. _ Allen replies

_ What are you? High?! _ Ed yells.

_ You mean like flying? I flew with Lenalee once. Supersonic speed is not fun. _ Allen informs.

_ GRAAH! _ Ed yells.

_ Timcanpy? _ Allen asks.

Ed takes a deep breath and ignores him. He figures he’ll wake up eventually and start making more sense. 

He focuses on Other Al, walking into the sterile white room, heels clicking on the white linoleum tiles. At least they had tried for a decoration, painting one wall completely black and putting up a huge silver star that splayed out like a sparkler, with a long silver upside down triangle going down the bottom.

“It’s called the rose cross.” Other Al says, eyes focused on what Ed was looking at. “It’s the symbol of the Black Order.” 

Ed feels instant rage and hate at the name, but he swallows it down, asking, “The Black Order?” With a curious look. It makes him feel guilty, but he still does it.

Other Al nods. “Yeah. It’s an organization that fights against demons, specifically the Noah Clan.”

Ed feels a jolt of alarm from Allen.

_ Are you awake now, fuckass? _ Ed snarks.

_ Nope. Still asleep. _ Allen replies bafflingly.  _ I’m just in this mindscape place. It’s mine this time, I think.  _

_ This time? Wait, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. So long as you’re awake, now. _

_ Yes. It’s the same as last time, it seems. _ Allen says grimly.

_ Don’t worry, I’ve got this. _

“Why do you fight the demons?” Ed asks, letting some of his scientific curiosity shine through. “Is it to study them?”

Other Al huffs a laugh. “Of course only you would think of such a reason, Blue.” And Ed’s heart aches at that, twisting in his chest. But Other Al turns grim very quickly. “No. It’s because demons eat human flesh.”

Ed’s stomach plummets, and he can feel Allen’s sudden spike of alarm and disgust, the way his fear turns into determination, can sense how shaken up he is by this.

Ed wraps his soul around his and can feel Allen try to compose himself, to convince himself he’s okay. And he does so, he’s composed, and calm on the outside, but he still doesn’t push Ed away.

Ed swallows. “Why… would they do that?” Ed asks, for Allen’s benefit.

Other Al shrugs, going to sit on the bed beside Ed. “Honestly we don’t really know. Just that they do. Some of them even eat other demons.” Alternate Al says, in a perplexed voice.

Ed frowns. “What’s this ‘Noah Clan’? Why go after them in particular?” Ed asks.

Other Al sighs, running his hands through his hair. “The Noah are a breed of particularly powerful demon. They’re tricky, because they collect favors from other demons and trick humans into trusting them. It makes them difficult to destroy.”

Ed’s blood runs cold at the casual way his (not) little brother had said ‘destroy’. But. They obviously didn’t have all the information. They thought they were demons, not demonic hosts. Not human beings in desperate need of help. But Ed couldn’t tell them that. They’d see him as a spy, a mole, if he started spouting pro-demon shit, which, he was planning to be, but it’s not like he planned on being caught.

“So how can you tell that they’re demons?” Ed checks.

Al deflates. “You can’t, really. They blend in with humans seamlessly, we really just have to catch them in the act of hunting, or, well, we have these scanners that work  _ sometimes _ , but only sometimes, and there’s this special spray that Komui uses on us that makes the demons want to attack us like we’re their next meal.” Al says with a shrug.

Ed glares at him. “‘Us’?!” 

Al looks at him sheepishly. “Yeah, the Alchemists and the Exorcists. We all work together to combat the demons.”

Ed opened his mouth. Well, shit.

Then the building shook with an explosion, dust raining down from the ceiling. The building shakes around them, a glass of water falling off the bedside table to shatter on the floor, the table tipping over with a crash, the heart monitors screeching with their alarm. More explosions shake the building, and Al’s eyes sharpen.

“We’re under attack!” He yells. “Lenalee, get-!”

“That’s quite enough out of you, boy.” A cool voice says, and a whip strikes out and impales Al in the stomach. Al looks down in shock, as red dribbles from the wound. The whip rips itself out of his stomach with a wet sound, and Al falls to the ground, lifeless.

No. 

Al!

Not again, dammit!

Lenalee lifts from her bed with a war cry, red anklets around her ankles transforming into black high heel boots with butterfly wings at the heel, and a cougar of fire roars to meet her.

_ It’ll be okay, Ed. _

_ I’m coming! _

_ I promise I’m coming to help! _

Despite Allen’s words, Ed isn’t reassured.

One shot. He thinks, drawing a circle in Al’s blood. It’s going to work. He’s going to make it. He has to.

I can’t lose him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally headcanon that Allen needs a sort of emotional upheaval to level up his eye, a lot like with innocence. 
> 
> Also, Ed was totally bluffing about knowing how a TV worked, lol. And then Allen's pride made him go, "i see." lol those two and their pride.
> 
> Also, unsure if I used too much angst in this chapter. I try not to, but tell me if you think I went a bit overboard!
> 
> Like it? Hate it? Comments? Kudos? Your input feeds my soul!


	6. Meet Up, Take Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for gore and PTSD flashbacks, violence, and Ed's potty mouth.
> 
> Also, super sorry for leaving y'all hanging. Got caught up in other projects, got a stomach bug, forgot to post. Shit happens.

Ed draws a transmutation circle on the linoleum tiles in his baby brother’s blood, the sounds of fighting clashing overhead as he staunches the flow of blood of his brother’s gut wound with his t-shirt. Al’s blood pools on the floor, and if Ed didn’t check his brother’s pulse every thirty seconds he would swear he was already dead.

Al’s face is pale, his bare chest slowly rising and falling, the hole in his side pouring blood and intestinal fluid, and Ed has to resist the urge to be sick when he lifts Al’s t-shirt and sees wormy intestines burst and leaking underneath.

He curses to himself. Nearly finished. He swears he’s going to be carrying around Cretan healing arrays with him everywhere he goes from now on if it will keep his brother safe.

He hears Lenalee cry out and the Noah say something in a mocking tone, but Ed doesn’t have time for them right now.

Finished. He grabs his baby brother with his one arm and holds him against his chest, easing him down to the transmutation circle so as not to smear it. Al whimpers in pain when he touches the floor, and Ed sets him the rest of the way down and runs his fingers soothingly through his hair. “I know, Al. I know. It’s okay. You’ll feel better soon.”

Stepping carefully out of the circle, he kneels down on his hands and knees and puts his hand next to the transmutation circle. As he takes a deep breath, he thinks,  _ only one shot at this. _

Concentrating, the circle bright and shining in his mind, it comes to life, lighting up bright white, black and purple electricity crackling, lighting up Alphonse’s pale face in shades of white and purplish-black.

_ A rebound?! Shit shit shit! _

Ed nearly stops the transmutation, terrified for his baby brother -- black hands reaching up out of the transmutation circle, destroying Al, taking Al away -- before he sees his brother’s wounds slowly knitting themselves back together, slowed now without his concentration, about to fail. Despite every instinct, he ups his concentration, as easy as breathing, as Al’s flesh knits itself back together. The light of the transmutation dies down, yet he knows Al isn’t out of danger yet. He took care of the worst of the external and internal injuries, but he could still die of internal bleeding if he doesn’t get to a more skilled Alchemical healer soon.

He looks down at his one blood-stained hand. How… had he done that? What was that, dare he say, unholy light? Shaking his head, he focuses on Al.

He can already see Al breathing easier, his face less lined with pain, but he still checks him over, making sure that wonky transmutation really did work. Everything seems to be in order so far as he can tell, his wound closed, his breathing steadier, his heart rate more stable, so Ed has to conclude that Al’s fine for now and that it worked to the best of his abilities. He lets out a sigh of relief. Then, he creates another transmutation circle out of Al’s left over blood lying around and uses some bedsheets to transmute a bulletproof vest, and outfits Alphonse with it. Then he grabs Al around the chest and begins to drag him, grunting at the weight.

He drags him out into the hallway. There’s signs of destruction everywhere, pillars smashed and walls caved in or with holes in them leading to different rooms, or at one point to open air, the pristine blue walls now turned to rubble, the destroyed sections flickering oddly. But Ed has no time to contemplate that. What he’s looking for is some sort of janitor’s closet or something, something out of the way and inconspicuous that no one with look for.

“Ed…?” Ed looks down. Alphonse’s eyes are open, foggy but awake. “Ed… what’s going… on?” He gasps. He’s short of breath, there must still be some leftover internal bleeding.

“You were injured.” Ed tells him, knowing his brother can handle it. “You’re mostly healed, but I didn’t have the right array to heal everything.”

Al blinks slowly. “You healed me…” He trails off, blinking again, once, twice, three times. One the third, his eyes stay closed, and Ed has to stop to check that his brother is still breathing.

He sighs. On he goes.

Ed finally finds a utility closet not far away, and, stump twinging in pain, he drags Al into the small space and sets him down in it. He brings his hand up to his stump with a wince and it comes away bloody. Shaking it off, he looks back at Al, and sighs. He really doesn’t want to leave him, but that Lenalee girl might need help.

And Ed isn’t just going to stand around doing nothing when people are getting hurt.

Closing the closet door behind him, he curses at the blood trail he’s left behind. Deliberating, an idea comes to mind. Drawing another transmutation circle in the blood, a simple earth based one, Ed smiles devilishly. Putting his hand to it, it lights up, and the floor is ripped apart beneath his fingers, pure alchemical power turning stone into rubble.

Just another path of destruction among many. Ed thinks, with a satisfied smirk. 

Standing up, Ed feels Allen’s presence enter his body, settling into his soul, Allen’s superior senses overlaying his like an equation to an alchemical formula clicking into place. His hearing is sharper, and so is his sense of smell, the iron smell of blood and fear-sweat pervading his nostrils.

_ Ed! Are you okay? Is Al okay? And what about Lenalee? Is she okay? _ Allen asks, frantic.

_Al’s stable._ Ed answers tersely. _I’m fine._ _Not sure about Lenalee. I was about to go check. When are you getting here?_

_ As soon as I can find the location to the Black Order’s headquarters. _ Allen says, sounding frustrated. _ I already checked and it’s not in either of the locations I remember it being in. The Noah family must have the information stored somewhere, so it’s just the matter of finding where _ . Ed can feel Allen’s ears droop from where part of him is occupying Allen’s soul.  _ I’m sorry. Until then you’re on your own. _

Ed sighs.  _ Nothing I didn’t know before. _ He assures.

_ I’ll get there as quickly as I can. _

_ No worries. I’ll be fine. _

Ed renters the hospital room. The shapeshifter that could shift into things Envy could only dream of had Lenalee’s stomach pinned to the ground under her high heel shoe, her hand-turned-whip wrapped around Lenalee’s throat, strangling her. Lenalee was battered and covered in blood, something about one of her legs distinctly  _ wrong _ , and she was having trouble breathing, clawing at the whip wrapped around her neck.

A shiver of alarm going down his spine, Ed picks up an IV stand one handed and twirls it above his head, bringing it down to smash against this bastard’s head with a war cry of his own. The Noah turns to look at him, black blood trickling down her temple, her eyes cold. The whip retracts from Lenalee’s throat and comes whistling towards Edward.

Shit!

Alertness jolting through him, Ed parries with the IV stand, but doesn’t account for the whip to wrap itself around his makeshift weapon and yank it out of his hand. Dammit! If he’d had two hands he’d have had a strong enough grip.

Then she’s slamming him against the wall, the whip wrapped around his throat. Ed struggles, mind screeching, but she’s superhumanly strong, a lot like the homunculi, shit. 

“Humans.” She says, examining him coolly as if he were a small bug that she’d found squashed under her foot. “So weak. So helpless. So inferior.” Ed kicks her in the shin, and she retaliates by gut punching him. Ed wheezes, his body curling into the blow. “Why must you struggle when it is obviously a losing battle? You’ll only die in the end.”

“You’re… wrong…” Ed wheezes.

Humans were not weak. 

They weren’t helpless. 

Hell, they were some of the most strong and inventive people Ed had ever met. 

They were adaptable, and smart, and stuck together like glue.

Their loved ones were their strengths, and damn anyone who wanted to harm them. 

Human life was precious. 

That’s what Ed believes. 

Every life, even his own.

Ed, his vision going foggy and his body screaming for air, brings up his hand unknowingly to transmute.

He can’t die here. 

He has a little brother waiting for him. 

He has a person that, despite not knowing him that well, is depending on him.

He cannot fail them!

Ed’s resolve hardens. He brings up his hand to transmute, blackness eating up his vision, when a green light illuminates the room; so bright it’s blinding. And then the Noah bursts into flames. She falls back, screaming in pain, and Ed smirks, taking deep lungfuls of breath, as he spins the winged spear in his hand.

_ Innocence, huh?  _

_ Lu-cky. _

Despite how heavy it should feel, the spear feels light as air in his hand, and Ed takes a second to marvel at that before shooting a smirk the Noah’s way.

She’s covered in red, blackened burns, and the smell of burnt human flesh pervades the air. But even as he’s watching, the burns are fading from her skin. Her long, dark hair, which had been pulled into a loose ponytail, was now free and falling down her shoulders. She had sharp cheekbones with a thin face and an amber, hawk-like gaze, with an upturned nose and lips that slanted slightly sideways into a small frown, giving her the permanent expression of an uncaring, disdainful look.

Ed shrugs. Well, better attack while she’s still weakened.

Ed lifts his staff and beckons her forward with two fingers in a ‘come at me, bitch’ motion. Any respectable fighter should be able to read the lingo.

The Noah looks at him, unimpressed.

Ed shrugs.

Well, he’d tried to do this the traditional way. 

Ed vaults over the hospital bed and springs towards her, kicking out with his left foot. He feels when it connects, however, the Noah just catches his foot in her hand with a disdainful look, and throws him across the room.

Ed hits the wall with a crash, jarring his stump and smashing his head on the wall. He sees white. Ed’s senses prickle, he hears an odd sound, like moving water, and he forces his eyes open. Turns out, giant water tigers are a thing. And she’s heading straight towards him.

The tiger gets up in his face, jaws snapping. Ed jerks his face back and vaults off of the wall, leaping half over the giant cat and using her back as a handspring while holding his staff in his hand and flips the rest of the way onto his feet.

The Noah, now cornered against the wall, lowers her great head and growls low in her throat. Ed slices down with the spear, the water resistant to his efforts as he severs the big cat’s front legs with one slash of his spear. The water drops to the floor, and Ed has a moment of victory. But with a swirl of water, the legs reform, just as they had been before. 

Ed curses, plans running through his head, but before he can utilise them, the water splits apart. The water tiger is gone, and in its place are two frothing waves, Ed steps back, hold his spear before him, but before he can blink, the waves surge forward. Ed turns, but a sense of dread dropping in chest tells him he won’t make it in time. 

The water reforms around him, and Ed can’t breathe. He holds his breath, finding he’s still clasping his spear while trapped in the water prison, and tries to move it. 

But he can’t.

The water has transformed into some kind of gelatin, and if there was any time for Ed to magically regain his right arm, it would be now. But no. He’s trapped inside a gelatinous prison, without Alchemy and with no way to move. If he were Al, he would keep hold of his air supply for as long as he could and wait for help to arrive. But because he’s Ed, he screams in impotent fury, releasing most of his air supply, and begins kicking and struggling, despite being unable to move. 

He can feel this smug bitch’s amusement, and that just makes him angrier. 

Eventually, his chest starts to ache, his throat locking up with the need to just breathe.

Fuck that. Who knows what would happen if he breathed in part of Lulubell. She could wreak havoc to his body from the inside!

As his legs lock up and his fingers turn numb, he wonders if he really is going to die here. He wasn’t planning on it. Fuck. He really doesn’t want to make Al sad. Not by dying on him a second time. Though to be fair, he’d… died… first… 

Then a white whirlwind flashes through the gel prison, blades flashing, and arms wrap around Ed and they burst out on the other side. Ed takes great gulping gasps of air, just glad to be alive, shivering and shaking, a warmth entering his bones, the numbness receding. Ed collapses bonelessly, holding his staff tight to his chest, when a familiar voice says, “Ed? Ed, are you okay?”

Ed cracks one eye open. The teen had pale skin that contrasted Ed’s own deep brown coloring, white hair that was about neck length, a nasty angled scar that went down the left side of his face, and milky blue-grey eyes that nonetheless could pierce right through him.

“Allen?” Ed asks, before breaking into a fit of harsh coughing that makes his chest ache. Shit. Great first impression, dickhead.

Allen looks (sniffs?) down at him. He smiles. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” Bringing him closer, he buries his face in Ed’s hair for a moment, just breathing. Ed feels horrified at the thought of himself being small enough to be hugged against someone’s chest-- and then quashes the thought, _he_ _is_ **_not_** _a blonde chihuahua masquerading as a human,_ dammit!

Allen looks over at Ed’s face and blinks. “I never said you were.”

Ed grumbles. “Just set me down, already.” For the sake of his pride, at least.

Allen nods. He then turns and sets Ed down, standing in front of him protectively. His white cloak flares out in defiance, four feet long metallic claws with a golden crown design on the thin wrist, the rest of the arm black and thin yet contoured like a real arm. His white cloak has a mask in front, half black and half gold, the hood fluffy and the cloak covering his right arm until it ends in white a glove. Allen holds his gleaming claws before him in warning.

“This one’s off-limits, Lulubell.” Allen warns. Ed almost snorts. The deadly shapeshifter was named  _ Lulubell _ ? He liked Envy better.

Lulubell was currently standing in human form, looking at them both speculatively. “We did not suspect that you had any ties left to this place. A mistake, perhaps.” She tilts her head, then seems to come to a decision. “Alright. He will come with us.”

“Hell no, I’m not coming with you!” Ed exclaims.

“And I won’t make him.” Allen says firmly.

_ You sure about that? _ Ed asks.

_ Of course I’m sure! _

_ But what about… your loyalties? _

_ I dunno. We’ll get there when we get there _ .

“So you are still loyal to the Black Order?” Lulubell asks Allen, twisting the knife.

_ Fuck. _ Allen says.

_ Yeah, fuck.  _ Ed agrees.  _ Hold on, I’ve got an idea. Just follow my lead. _

Ed drops his staff, the sound reverberating on the linoleum floor.

He holds his arm out and says, “Take me in, then. So long as you promise not to hurt anyone else.” He says, playing up the innocent martyr act as much as he can. Not like he believes these guys will follow through with such a promise.

Lulubell’s eyes harden. “Restrain him.”

_ Do what she says. _

_ I know. _

Allen uses some weird fabric that shoots from his cloak to restrain his arm behind his back, though he’s more gentle than he seems. Allen bends down and takes Ed’s spear carefully into his right hand, holding it with care, Ed feeling an odd sense of loss without the weapon in his hand. Allen wraps more of the fabric around Ed’s chest and shoulders, in the excuse of restraining him, but Ed hadn’t missed the concern that had flashed through Allen when he’d seen (smelled?) Ed’s bleeding stump.

Ed’d probably pulled a few stitches. At least there was no pity in Allen’s eyes when he’d looked at it. He’d gotten really tired of the pitying looks he’d been getting from all the nurses at the hospital.

“Walk.” Lulubell commands. And they’re walking down the hallway, Ed being careful not to look anywhere in particular, with Lulubell guiding Allen to a certain meet up point. The hallway opened up into an entranceway, and Ed sees the scene of a wartorn battle site. The devastation in the room was… honestly not as bad as Ed had been expecting. He’d been expecting rampant murder, but honestly it didn’t seem to be so.  A whole section of what looked like defenseless people were left completely alone, if trapped in a box. The only people who seemed to be harmed were the people who fought back.

The whole entranceway was decimated, once elegant stairs and pillars smashed, control consoles and projection screens shattered and broken, the walls and floors cracked and splintered.  

A red haired, green eyed boy wearing an eyepatch and a headband was lying on the floor. His arm was dislocated, and his stomach looked like the fabric and skin had been peeled off. 

They pass him, and he stirs, looking up at them with one foggy green eye. He seems to comprehend what’s going on, because he struggles to get up on one arm, getting a knee under himself.

It’s not Lulubell, but Allen, who kicks him in the head, forcing him back down to the floor with a thud. _ “Just stay down. Please.” _ Allen says in Drachman, and Ed can hear the sadness, the pleading in his voice.

The red-head blinks up at him, surprised. Curiosity enters his one eye, but before anything else can occur, Lulubell is urging them forward again, calculation in her eyes.

The Noah family is waiting on top of a pile of rubble, in some weird sequenced white and black outfits. Tyki is holding an unconscious curly-haired man with black hair and rectangular wire frame glasses, wearing a white coat with the rose cross on the front.

There’s a long black-haired male with his sword still outstretched towards Tyki, a smear of blood underneath him. Shit. There is no way that guy is still alive. A black man is collapsed against a wall, blood on his temple, breathing unsteady. A large glowing creature with a female like face but her eyes covered by feathers, with long curling feather-like tentacles surrounding a snake-like body, is breathing unsteadily, glowing green blood splattered on the floor around her. 

Tyki looks at Allen askance, concern in his gaze. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, boy?”

Allen huffs from behind Ed. “I’m fine.” He says, though Ed can feel his arms shaking. And yeah, Allen was practically a skeleton, he really should be in bed.

Tyki shoots him a skeptical look.

The other white-haired Noah, Wisely’s, eyebrows raise as he looks at Lulubell. “It looks like you had a rough time of it.” Is all he says, though he seems concerned and shoots Ed a sharp, evaluating look.

The little girl -- Road -- runs up to Ed and Allen and asks, “who’s this, Allie?” Ed can feel Allen wince at the fond, familiar “chan” at the end of the new nickname, so Ed figures Allen’s not particularly fond of it.

“He’s coming with us,” Allen says instead of answering.

Road blinks. Then she smiles. “Okay!” She hums. “You know, Allen, you should bring your friends over more often! It would be fun!” She says, her tone light. It turns darker as she says, “So why didn’t you tell us about him? Hmm?”

Allen leans away, bringing Ed with him. “Uhm…”

“We’re not friends.” Ed says impulsively.

_ Ed? _

_ Just go with it. _

Road narrows her eyes, looking Ed up and down. Then she grins. It’s a rather malicious grin. “Sorry! I just don’t believe you~! Soo… how did you two meet?” She asks, sweet as candy, except for the poison hidden underneath.

_ What now, genius? _

_ Shut up, I’m thinking. _

A hand lands on Road’s shoulder, and they both look up. It’s some tall guy, his face masked in shadow, and he can feel Allen’s stomach drop and the way his hand tightens on Ed’s, his metallic claws flexing reflexively.

“Come on, Road, let’s play nice.” Mana Walker, The Millennium Earl, Allen’s mind whispers to him, chides. He lifts his head, and under the shadows he can just see his teeth flash in a broad smile. “After all, we wouldn’t want to scare away our guests, now would we?”

Road pouts up at him, “but  _ Milleniiie!” _ She whines.

“That’s enough, Road.” Mana Walker says, and Road deflates.

Ed and Allen are pushed forward by Lulubell, Allen carrying Ed on top of the pile of rubble. 

The Earl looks over at a fluffy-haired Noah. “Brother dear, call the Ark, why don’t you?” He requests.

The Noah nods, and with a tilt of his head a white gateway rises up behind them, like segments of shattered glass.

_ It’ll be okay, Ed. I promise I’ll get you back to your brother. _

_ Don’t make promises you can’t keep.  _ Ed warns him.

Ed enters a sea of bright white light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no!
> 
> Not quite as cliffhanger-y as last time... I hope?
> 
> Please, don't lynch me!


End file.
